Agent Kurt Hummel
by heavenhelpmyheart
Summary: Kurt Hummel is an innocuous student at William McKinley High... to most. He's actually a part of the CIA's Agent Development Program, and his whole world gets turned around when he's assigned to the *gorgeous* son of a famous scientist at an all boys school, acting as bait and trying to figure out what Dr. Anderson is up to before Sue Sylvester and her lackies do.
1. The Assignment

Welcome to the Agent Development Program. Since 1987 and under strict secrecy, the CIA has been recruiting juvenile agents the nation over. As soon as we received word that a potential candidate had been spotted, we approached them with undercover agents and brought them into our facilities under the guise of summer camps. And their parents had no idea of their real activities. There they were trained to the highest standards in all forms of combat defense, navigational techniques, and of course, explosives diffusion. Our fully-trained juvenile agents are stationed all over the nation. They meticulously maintain the façades of normal childhoods as they await their call for duty...

* * *

**Hudson-Hummel Residence, 415 Whitman Avenue, Lima, OH 05:59:19  
**Kurt woke up a minute before his alarm clock as usual. It wasn't his fault, it was his training. Sadly, not the training one would expect either. The nuisance on the other side of the wall had trained him this way, because whenever his alarm clock went off at what Finn called "an absolutely ridiculous hour," Finn would be cranky for the rest of the day. Thus, an alarm-less awakening.

Kurt turned off his alarm clock before it could annoy his brother and headed for the shower, making sure to moisturize thoroughly in preparation for the day. Not that it was any special day, but he really didn't want wrinkles at thirty.

After he was showered and dressed, he headed downstairs, his future step-mother sitting at the kitchen table with a mildly-lucid smile and a cup of coffee. "Good morning, sweetie," she said, her usual greeting.

"Good morning," Kurt said in reply. He made coffee for himself (the first of his three or four cups), and started in on breakfast for himself, her, and his father, who would be down shortly, tired and grumpy. Finn could make his own breakfast, for all Kurt cared. "Are you working the early shift today?" The fact that she was awake at this hour wasn't indicative of anything.

"Yep. I get to be at the hospital bright and early," Carole said with a smile. She worked as a nurse, and his commanding officer would categorize her as a 'valuable resource.'

"Too damn early," his father mumbled as he entered the kitchen. Kurt placed a cup of coffee in front of him, used to this routine. "Morning, kiddo."

"Good morning, dad." His father didn't believe in the concept of the greeting, saying that no morning was a good morning when he had to be awake early enough for people to be saying that without checking the clock.

"Is Finn awake yet?" Carole asked, and Kurt replied with a simple shake of his head. He had spent almost an hour in the bathroom without disturbing his soon-to-be step-brother. "He's going to be late for school," Carole said with a huff, standing to go wake her son up with a look of motherly irritation on her face.

"How's your day look, kiddo?" his dad asked as she left the room. His father tried his hardest to be involved in Kurt's life, but there were so many aspects of it that he wasn't allowed to know about, for one reason or another, that there was a definite separation between the two of them. It almost made Kurt miss elementary school.

"Average and boring as usual." William McKinley High School provided no challenges for Kurt except for the daily struggle to avoid all bullies and other imbeciles.

"Dude, you totally could have woken me up," Finn said crankily as he sat down. Kurt placed eggs in front of Carole (who had returned to her coffee), his father, and kept a plate for himself. "What, no eggs?"

"You snooze, you lose, and it's not my place to wake you up. It's not even your mother's, but she's too nice for her own good." Carole was one of the genuinely sweetest women he had ever met. He was glad his dad had found her. "Make a poptart or something." Kurt wrinkled his nose at the idea of the disgusting processed food.

"Bitch," Finn muttered under his breath, passing Kurt on the way to the junk food cabinet (Kurt's iron-fist over the contents of the kitchen had been subverted when Finn and Carole moved in. Finn liked processed garbage, and Carole liked making her son happy. It was a bad combination).

"We're leaving for school in fifteen minutes," Kurt announced, being the one with the car and thus being the person in charge of getting them there on time. "Be ready or stay home." Not that Finn didn't _want_ to stay home, but Carole would force him to walk to school... and it was a long way.

* * *

**William McKinley High School, 1 Titan Way, Lima, OH 7:44:32  
**Finn had showered and scoffed down his poptart before getting in the Navigator (there was absolutely no eating in Kurt's baby. _Ever_), so they made it to school on time with a fair bit of grumbling from Finn. Because Finn was so annoyed with Kurt's unwillingness to wake him up (which was totally reasonable, because Finn was a bear in the mornings and he didn't want to be hit in the face any more than considered absolutely necessary for his sexuality) and desire to be at school on time, he stalked out of the car with no regard for walking Kurt into the school. Not that Kurt really needed the help, but he didn't know that. He couldn't know that.

"Hey, faggot," was the usual greeting the jocks gave him before tossing him in the dumpster, and he sighed. He couldn't put these idiots in their place, like he wanted to, but he could surely avoid the dumpster on one occasion, right?

"Hey, plebeians," he responded as normal, turning around to face them. Azimio and Rashad. Two typical knuckle-draggers. Excellent. They took a moment to look at each other, trying to figure out if either of them know what that word meant, and then turned to look back at Kurt, but he was long gone.

He expected the morning to go smoothly for then on, but the jocks had gotten some new tricks, apparently, like the concept of _following_. So, when whichever idiot it was grabbed his arm, Kurt reacted automatically, driving his elbow into the solar plexus behind him and spinning, Azimio's hand still on upper arm, Azimio being thrown off-balance and crashing into Rashad. Letting a smug smirk cross his face, Kurt looked around to make sure no one had noticed, dusted off his hands, and continued walking.

* * *

**William McKinley High School, 1 Titan Way, Lima, OH 12:37:48  
**"Go back to the girls' locker room," someone shouted at him after gym class, slamming him into the lockers with a shoulder. "That's where you belong."

"Yeah, none of us want your faggot ass, so go jump off a cliff," Azimio jeered. Clearly, he hadn't learned his lesson that morning.

Kurt could feel the blood rising in his face. After a long moment, he said "Fine," heading to leave. It didn't really matter what they thought. They certainly didn't know him, and that was about to be proven, judging by the woman standing at the door.

She was Latina, with her dark hair flowing over her shoulder. She was wearing an entirely red, extremely revealing, skin-tight suit with black heels and sunglasses. He was pretty sure he recognized that suit from 'summer camp' as something female agents wore to distract men. It was definitely working. Even Azimio had stopped talking, preferring to gape and letting out a wolf-whistle that earned him a look. Even through the sunglasses, everyone in the room could tell that look was a glare.

"Kurt Hummel?"

"Yes," Kurt replied. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"What the hell is she doing here for him?" he heard Rashad murmur, but the woman's gaze snapped to the cruel jock who had been a monumental douchebag today. So much so, in fact, that Kurt didn't even feel bad about what was going to happen next.

"Quiet," she snapped, quieting the laughter following Rashad's comment immediately. "Or you'll all be in trouble." Bad choice of words. _Really_ bad. "Come with me." That was directed towards Kurt, and he prepared to leave with her.

"Hey, pretty lady," Azimio said, sliding over to block the doorway. "I want to be in trouble." Did Azimio really think this was going to go over well?

"Hold this," she said, handing the black briefcase Kurt hadn't noticed until then to Karofsky. She reached over and took a football. "I really," she threw it perfectly, hitting Azimio between the eyes, "hate," she reached out and grabbed her briefcase from Karofsky, hitting his shoulder so hard he spun backwards and fell in the process, "guys who talk back," she finished, standing over Azimio and placing one stiletto heel over his throat. "Thank you," she said, picking her briefcase up from where Karofsky had dropped it, "for nothing." It was very pointed, just like everything else about her. "Let's go," she said to Kurt, and he didn't bother to argue, following. "Grab your things, you won't be coming back here."

"So where are we headed?" Kurt asked as they stopped by his locker. Physical education was technically a class, meaning it was the middle of the day, and there was no one in the hallway. "New York, California, Mexico, Europe?" he asked, excited by the prospect. He had been waiting to get out of Lima for so long, and it was finally happening. This wasn't exactly his ideal way, but it would work.

"Downtown Columbus," she replied, not seeming affected by Kurt's disappointment. "My name is Agent Lopez, you will never call me Santana, and we will never mention the incident during which I assaulted two minors within a hundred miles of headquarters, understand?"

If the headquarters was in Columbus... "We're already within a hundred miles of-"

"Exactly," Agent Lopez said coldly, shutting his locker with a slap of her hand once she had decided she had waited there long enough, and stalked off to the parking lot. Kurt had to hurry to catch her.

They took a SUV (Kurt had tried, but Agent Lopez insisted he leave his Navigator in the parking lot, promising agents would return it to his house) to Dayton, and then got on a helicopter to Columbus. Kurt was highly, if quickly, trained, and he knew what an odd route meant. They were trying to avoid being followed.

"Can you brief me even a little?" Kurt asked as they were hurried aboard the helicopter in downtown Dayton, closer to Kettering than the main city.

"I can brief you on exactly how you're going to react as the director of the Central Intelligence Agency briefs you on the most important mission you will ever be a part of, even if you continue to be a part of the agency as an adult," Agent Lopez answered, seeming doubtful of that possibility. "You will speak only when spoken to, you will follow orders completely and without question," she continued, raising her voice as the helicopter took off (they got earpieces and microphones once they were fully in the air), "you will address everyone as sir or madam, and under no circumstances will you say anything upsetting or touch _any_ gadgets, understand?"

"Yes," Kurt said. She continued to stare him down for a minute until he added, "madam."

"Not exactly as quick a learner as you sounded on your reports," was all she said in reply. This wasn't going to be as much fun as he had hoped.

Kurt got a great view of Ohio as they traveled from Dayton to Columbus (not that Ohio looked any more impressive from the air, but still), and Columbus almost looked like a respectable city to a bird. Agent Lopez looked unimpressed by how enthralled Kurt was with the view, but he really didn't care. She had probably traveled to Washington D.C. by helicopter, he had never even seen one in real life before.

* * *

**CIA Headquarters, Downtown Columbus, Columbus, OH 14:35:40  
**The Columbus HQ of the CIA looked formidable, covered with American flags and people racing around on Segways. The main building itself looked like elevated barracks surrounding a courtyard, which consisted mostly of a lake covered by a stone path. Agent Lopez led him halfway across the path before stopping, staring at the water expectantly. Kurt heard the familiar shriek of machinery, and a metallic step appeared before her in the water. "Hold your breath," was all she said before walking down the steps, not seeming concerned by the water that must be drenching her and her suit. Kurt followed quickly when he saw a door open in front of her. The water level hadn't moved an inch. It was very odd. Kurt stepped onto the first step, noticing his toes get a little wet, and then stepped onto the second, and froze. His feet weren't wet. It was dry underneath the water. Kurt would have stopped and asked someone about this, but Agent Lopez was standing at the bottom of the staircase, in the doorframe, and staring up at him, unimpressed.

Kurt quickly walked down the stairs, still kind of in awe. There was water above him, and around him on all sides, even under the staircase, but he was perfectly dry. He walked through the door and decided this must be mission control. It was entirely dark metal and glass, barely lit by fluorescent lights. There was a desk to Kurt's left, and a wall full of metals to Kurt's right, but he was more interested in the doors that opened straight ahead. The fifteen feet between the underwater door and this automatically sliding door was covered by a CIA logo, intimidating and shined. The room directly inside those doors was amazing. Six chairs on each side of a raised panel, twelve computer screens on the panel adjacent to each seat. There were fluorescent lights between the seats, and a map of the world rested on the wall behind the two chairs that looked upon the panel and other chairs, obviously for commanders or the like. They had florescent lights resting directly above their heads.

Agent Lopez walked straight through the doors and took a sharp left. Kurt paused to take a look at the wall to his right, which consisted of a _lot _ of stars on the wall (way more than fifty) and some sort of book on a light display, between two American flags.

"Hey," a hand grabbed at Kurt's shoulder, and he spun, grabbing the hand and pressing the pressure point at the thumb automatically, forcing the man who had grabbed him (a security guard) to his knees with little effort on Kurt's part.

"Very impressive," a voice behind the security guard said, and Kurt looked up from his captive to see a man in a suit standing there. He had dark blonde, curly hair that he had slicked to his head, green eyes, and a welcoming smile. Kurt looked him quickly up and down, determining that he was about six feet, and seemed pretty in shape. "Though I would prefer it if you didn't incapacitate my security guards." Kurt let the idiot go.

"Hello." Agent Lopez stared him down again. "Sir."

"Sir, this trespasser-"

"Is a loyal and very important juvenile agent," the man finished the guard's sentence. "Yes, very good catch," he continued, oblivious to the look of shock on the man's face. "I'm Director Schuester. Come along. Welcome to the CIA, Agent Kurt Hummel."

Kurt had lied. The room he had seen couldn't be mission control, because this was _so_ much cooler. They turned left inside the sliding door, and walked down a wide set of stairs to the epicenter of the building. There was another map of the world on the wall, but it was red and navy and computerized. A bunch of men were gathered around a circular table, tapping at computers and discussing in low tones. There were staircases leading up in the opposite direction, and doors to the far side. It was an amazing place to be.

Kurt, Agent Lopez, and Director Schuester took the empty seats at the circular table, the men around it either clearing seats of exiting the table. "Agent Hummel, we've prepared you a brief presentation on the advanced concept of neutrinos," a short, brunette lady in a suit top and skirt said in a very condescending voice, passing a stack of papers towards him.

"Agent Rachel Berry," Agent Lopez whispered to him helpfully.

"Neutrinos? I know what those are. They're elementary, neutrally charged, weak interacting subatomic particles. Their mass presumed to be beyond microscopic, small even by the standard of subatomic particles. They're not effected by electromagnetic forces, only affected by weak subatomic forces and gravity, though gravity doesn't have as pronounced an effect on them as it does other particles. They can pass through matter and travel through air in large distances. Scientists still doubt their existence at all," Kurt rattled off, glad that he still remembered everything from summer camp. Director Schuester looked impressed.

"Neutrinos are real, Agent Hummel," Agent Berry said in a grave tone. "Very real."

"And so are their opposite. The antineutrino." Director Schuester hit a button on the computer screen in front of him, and a computerized model of what Kurt presumed was an antineutrino replaced the map of the world. "This is a lepton particle emitted during beta particle emissions. They're essentially the same as neutrinos, but these tiny particles have great potential. Dangerous potential. Not only can antineutrinos be used for reactor monitoring in nuclear weapons, which is a whole other issue being solved by the FBI working closely with M16 and several federal governments who requested we, 'the assassin force,' not be involved," Director Schuester's nose wrinkled, "they are also powerful tools in communication. They can potentially be used to probe light and radio waves due to their weak interaction with other particles. They are able to travel along the paths of any signal without detection, and a mass of neutrinos could provide interference. Communications are at stake, and this mission is based in our homeland." Director Schuester didn't say anything else.

"Sir, if the issue isn't global, why is it under your... _our_ jurisdiction?" Kurt asked, ignoring his little slip-up and the glare he was getting from Agent Lopez for not following her orders.

"Good question, Agent Hummel," the director said proudly. "The control of antineutrinos in communications, also known as Operation Atlas Shrugged, was given to the CIA because of this man." Director Schuester hit another button, and a man showed up on the screen. Kurt would guess him to be in his mid-40s, slight but not weak. Wiry would be his best guess. Glasses covered his bright blue eyes, and his coal black hair was arranged wildly. "Doctor Michael Anderson, leading expert in the field of neutrinos... but he is not your assignment either."

"Then what is?" Kurt finally asked, and Agent Lopez cleared her throat with a disapproving look.

"Doctor Michael Anderson has two sons, two gateways to his research. One, Cooper Anderson," a movie star Kurt vaguely recognized showed up on the screen, a red-carpet picture that didn't fit in with the image the CIA HQ gave him, "lives in Los Angeles and is under close supervision as a punishment job to three agents." Kurt tried and failed not to laugh. Director Schuester gave him a disapproving look. Agent Lopez face-palmed. "Your target is Blaine Anderson." Kurt looked expectantly at the screen, but it was blank. "Unfortunately, there are no current pictures of him available, as he is kept extremely safe by his school."

"So, what's my job?" What was he supposed to be doing with Doctor Anderson's _son_?

"Blaine Anderson, sixteen, hair black, eyes hazel, loves music, especially 70s and 80s, popular, and Broadway music, books, preferably Jonathan Keates, and coffee, a medium drip, to be exact. Learn everything you possibly can about this boy, get close to him. You're perfect for this assignment. You two are of similar ages, have similar interests, and share one very important bonding trait, I presume." Kurt stared at the director expectantly. "It took us a long time to learn this, because his family works hard to cover it up, but Blaine Anderson is gay, and you are our bait."

"Your requirements," Agent Berry added, "are to attend Dalton Academy, join their Glee club, the Warblers, and befriend Doctor Anderson's son. Your assignment is to use your friendship with this boy to find out what his father is planning with Stheno."

"Exactly. Stheno is a corporation we've had our eye on for a while, and now that it's becoming involved in the affairs of Doctor Anderson, we have a reason to nab them."

"You will be sent to Dalton Academy, you've been placed in all of his classes-"

"Isn't that a little creepy?" Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait, you want me to _date_ this guy?"

"Kurt," why was she the only one who didn't call him Agent Hummel? he wondered as she slid her chair closer to his, "under no circumstances are you to date your target. Doctor Anderson is an extremely homophobic man, and he will never allow you anywhere near his project if he thinks you're interested in his son. Do anything else, but do _not_ date Blaine Anderson. The first step is to get yourself invited to the Anderson family Halloween party. Simple enough?" she asked sarcastically, sliding her chair away again.

"Be careful. Stheno Corporations hires dangerous people. They will not hesitate to kill you." Kurt swallowed heavily. Yikes. "Can you handle this assignment?"

"You can count on me," Kurt said decisively, and the board of directors (he assumed that's who they were) left. Agent Rachel Berry came over with a smile.

"Would you like me to brief you on Stheno, so you know what you're going up again?" she asked softly, not as intimidating without the directors around. Kurt nodded. "Stheno Corporation is named after one of Medusa's sisters, who was named after the Greek word for 'forceful,' and the name is appropriate. Stheno, the monster, was known for being independent, vicious, and immortal, with brass hands and sharp fangs. Stheno Corporation is all of these things. It's spent the last fifteen years eating smaller companies for breakfast, expanding into the metal-making industries and communications. Vertical integration is not lost on the company. It controls the process from the ground to the iPhone about to fall out of your pocket," Kurt grabbed it just before it fell, "and it's very dangerous."

"The leader of Stheno," Agent Lopez added, obviously tired of this part, "is named Sue Sylvester." The woman she put up on screen was almost as terrifying as the mythological Gorgons. Short cropped blond hair, blue eyes, and a fierce expression. "Six feet tall, one hundred and sixty-one pounds, fifty-two years old. She doesn't seem like a force to be reckoned with, but you do not want to meet this woman if you can avoid it."

"Since she's not a physical force to be reckoned with," Agent Berry added, clearly annoyed at having been interrupted, "there's Dustin Goolsby." When Agent Berry put his picture up on the screen, he didn't look like much of a physical force to be reckoned with either. Dark brown hair cut short, blue eyes, and a generally unhappy looking face. "Six four, two hundred and thirty pounds, tenth degree black belt in various forms of martial arts... you will not beat this man. Don't attempt it," Agent Berry said, her voice a mixture of firmness and concern.

"Anything else I should know?" Kurt asked, a pinch sarcastically.

"We will take care of your parents' concern about your sudden desire to switch schools. Dalton Academy, located in Westerville, is about two hours away from your home, so you will be boarding there. You may not see them for months, even years."

"Wait, Westerville?" he asked. "That's-"

"Less than half an hour away from here? Yes," Agent Lopez added. "We'll be keeping a close eye on you, Agent Kurt." Still not 'Agent Hummel' but close enough. "Come along." Agent Lopez led him up the stairs on the opposite side from where they had come in, through a series of panel-sliding doors that led into a laboratory better than anything Kurt had ever seen in one of the ridiculous science fiction movies Finn secretly loved. There were computers everywhere, monitoring the testing of various pieces of equipment. There was some sort of flying device that seemed similar to a helicopter, but was open and designed for one person, standing up. There was a jet-propelled snowboard, and a ton of other gadgets. Some of them looked painful. "Don't touch anything. And shut your mouth, you look enough like a Japanese blow-up sex doll already," Agent Lopez said as she led him over to a desk. The man standing on the other side was exactly the way Kurt pictured an eccentric government scientist.

"Mister Hummel," the man said, standing next to a scrawny assistant who was dressed like a Mormon, with the addition of a pocket protector. "Did you like my little stair trick?" Kurt nodded eagerly, because the stairs they had walked down into the nerve center of the headquarters were awesome. "Classic comic book, underwater lair stuff. Relatively new technology, but definitely fascinating. We still have to work a little bit on that line of water, but that's beside the point. Agents, and the gadgets they carry, can't get wet. Speaking of gadgets..."

"What do you have for me?" Kurt asked, ignoring another glare from Agent Lopez.

"Give me your iPhone." Kurt handed it over immediately and let out an embarrassing squeak when the man dropped it and stepped on it. "You won't need that. This is your new cell phone, a state of the art mobile command center, with holograms, GPS, and all sorts of functions you'll need on a traditional mission." How, exactly, did they define a traditional mission? "Here's a pair of X-ray sunglasses. Always handy, but beware... they have parental control on them, and she's in charge of it. No checking out anything you shouldn't be seeing." The man winked at him. "Here's a CIA shock watch. Anyone, even you, that presses the silver button will get quite a shock. Don't push it, even if you think it'll be fun, because it won't." The scientist handed it over. "Here's five thousand dollars in cash, and the agents who grabbed your car tricked it out, government style. Good luck, kid." The man turned around abruptly, and Agent Lopez began to walk away.

"That's it?" he asked the agent as she pulled him away. "That's all the help I'm getting."

"Of course not," she said coldly. "You get me. I'm your handler, this is my case too. You won't screw it up, or I'll kick your ass, Alphabet City style." Kurt didn't quite understand the threat, but he wasn't stupid enough to say anything.

* * *

**Hudson-Hummel Residence, 415 Whitman Avenue, Lima, OH**** 17:29:36  
**"You want to transfer _where_?" his dad asked him again. It must have been the sixth time his dad had asked him that question, and Kurt had the same answer every time.

"Dalton Academy."

"Sweetie, you know how much we love you, but schools like that are expensive," Carole said gently. "More expensive than we can handle right now."

"Dalton's giving me a _full_ scholarship for Glee club," Kurt tried again, knowing this was the lie the CIA wanted him to go with. He felt bad lying to his father, but it was for the sake of the country!

"Why do you want to go to Dalton Academy?" his dad asked, and Kurt had known he would be the more suspicious of the two. Carole looked thrilled.

"Dad..." Kurt said with a not-entirely-fake sigh, sitting next to his father on the couch, "you know how hard things are for me at McKinley... and I'll admit to having kept some of it from you." His dad looked furious, but that wasn't the point. "Dalton Academy has a zero-tolerance bullying policy." His dad went from so mad that he was turning red to sympathetic in a heart beat.

"Kurt, we don't know how official-" The door bell cut his father off.

"I'll get it," Kurt said, hoping it was someone coming to help him. When he opened up the door it was Agent Lopez, and she pushed right to him into the house, still wearing that red suit.

"Mr. Hummel?" she asked, holding out a hand for him to shake. "My name is Santana Lopez, and I'm the Dean of Admissions at Dalton Academy for Talented Boys."

"Wait a second," his dad said, shaking Agent Lopez's hand and then turning to Kurt. "This is an all _boys_ school?" he asked, and Kurt tried his best not to look sheepish. This wasn't going to go over well.

"Just because it's all boys, it doesn't mean... that's not why I want to go there, dad." His father still looked unimpressed.

"And that's not why we want him at our school," Agent Lopez said with a smile. "Kurt is an extraordinary student, who shines inside the classroom and out. Our show choir, the Dalton Academy Warblers, is well known and extremely successful, and we only recruit the most talented students in the country. Kurt is at the top of our list, considering countertenors are so rare."

"What the..." his dad paused, looking at Agent Lopez, "heck," he censored himself, "is a countertenor?"

"A countertenor is a unique vocal range-" Agent Lopez began, but since she couldn't throttle him in front of his parents, Kurt cut her off.

"A guy that sings like a girl, dad," he simplified, and his father nodded, adjusting his baseball cap like he did when he was nervous.

"This," Agent Lopez continued, "is Dalton Academy." She shot Kurt a glare while his parents were busy looking at the paperwork. Kurt took a peek himself, knowing almost nothing about the school he was supposed to attend... and gaped. It was gorgeous, a stone castle reminiscent of Harry Potter. There were a ton of buildings on a wide open, forest-filled campus. Kurt spotted sports fields, a lake, dormitories... the school was incredible.

"Wow," his dad said, readjusting his baseball cap. "This looks like an amazing school."

"And we would like Kurt to join our community as soon as possible," Agent Lopez said with a winning smile. It was the first time Kurt had ever seen her smile.

"Yeah, your community is what I'm worried about," his dad said with a look at Kurt. Kurt couldn't read the expression in his father's eyes.

"Since the school is a boarding school, we do our best to monitor the kids. There are rules, extensive ones, ensuring the safety and... shall we say 'chastity,' of our students. We have never had an issue involving relationships among students." Agent Lopez was pulling this all right out of her butt, Kurt could tell.

"It's a boarding school?" Carole asked, sounding disappointed.

"It is two hours away," Kurt added.

"Students are matched up with their roommate through an extensive system, and we take any concerns regarding roommates very seriously. As I said, the boys are well monitored, and although the campus is mostly open, there are regulations to ensure they're not having too much fun." She threw a look at Kurt that clearly said 'you won't be having any fun at all, unless it's with Doctor Anderson's son.' "Students are more than welcome to leave on weekends, though that can become difficult with the academic challenges presented by our school's award-winning curriculum." She really sounded like an administrator.

"We'll discuss as a family, but thank you, Mrs. Lopez."

"_Miss_ Lopez," she corrected, shaking his father's hand again. "It was an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel," Kurt probably should have told her about that, "and we look forward to having your son at Dalton Academy."

His dad waited until she had left. "You really want to go to this school?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Promise me if you get a boyfriend, I get to meet him that weekend?"

"Dad," Kurt complained.

"_Promise_ me-"

"Yes, yes, I promise."

"And if you're having any trouble with your roommate-"

"I'll report it."

"If you have too much trouble with the schoolwork-"

"I'll get a tutor," Kurt finished his dad's sentence. "Dad, I'll be fine."

"Call her back," his dad said with a sigh as Kurt mentally cheered. "You're going to Dalton Academy tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Dad," Kurt said with a smile, giving his dad a hug before racing upstairs to call Agent Lopez and confirm that her plan had worked.

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to my new story. This story fills a prompt given to me months ago by ** , **and I'm very excited to be fulfilling it. It's completely written, so it will be posted every week (on Friday. I meant to post this one yesterday, but time got away from me. That tends to happen). So, I hope you guys enjoy! I promise after this chapter it won't be so parallel to the movie Agent Cody Banks (which is what it's based on, if you can't tell).**

**Reviews are Love.**


	2. The First Impression

**Dalton Academy, 950 County Line Road, Westerville, OH 7:29:28  
**On Monday morning, Kurt drove out to Westerville. The agency had ordered him to go to a specific lot of the Dalton Academy parking lot, and he pulled in next to a surveillance van, totally silver and incredibly creepy. Did these people seriously think they were subtle?

The moment he had parked, Agent Lopez jumped out of the car, wearing the same cat-suit as she had when Kurt had first met her, only in black. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. "Good morning, Kurt," she said once he had hopped out of the car and approached her. "Nice outfit." Her compliment sounded more like questioning his choices, and he recoiled under her gaze a little bit. He had dressed up to make an impression, but her attitude implied he had gone too far. "Unfortunately, Dalton has a uniform, which you will receive when you go to fill out the paperwork. They have no idea who you are. Are you wearing your watch?" Kurt nodded. "Do you have your sunglasses?" Another nod, he had gotten them a case and stored them in his messenger bag. "Your cell phone?" Kurt showed it to her. "Your cash?"

"I have everything," he said finally, wondering for how long she was going to go on.

"Good," was all she said in reply. "Remember to keep all of those things on you when you are forced to change into uniform and switch out your brown man-purse for a Dalton-colored man-purse."

"How do you like your car?" Kurt, the highly trained agent that he was, hadn't even noticed the back of the van opening, and he let out an unmanly noise, whirling. "Smooth," the man leaning against the side of the van said with a wink. "Very dignified. Exactly what I expect of a field agent." There was another chuckle from inside.

For someone who made fun of field agents, this man looked like one. He had his dark brown hair shaven in a mohawk and bulging muscles. His eyes were a warm hazel, he was about six feet, and he didn't look much older than Kurt. "I'm Puck, I'm one of your computer nerds. Sam in here," Puck banged the side of the van, "is an actual nerd. We're your eyes and ears."

"Nice to meet you," Kurt replied. Puck rolled his eyes.

"Right."

"You will get your schedule and a map of the school when you register with the principal," Agent Lopez continued, not particularly caring about their banter. "You will attend every class, seek Doctor Anderson's son out at every opportunity, and join Glee club." She took a look at his expression and sighed. "I'm not saying this because I think you don't know it, I'm saying this because re-hashing the plan is important."

"Just seems like an opportunity for spies to me," Kurt replied, and Puck offered him a fist bump.

"Been saying that for years, stick asses like Santana don't listen." For a guy who planned to spend several days to weeks in the back of a van, he was dressed rather sharply, in dress pants, a button down shirt, and a tie. "Stay safe, kid, I like you."

"It's my job to make sure you do your job," Agent Lopez said coldly, glaring at Puck until he went back inside the van. "I didn't think I would be chaperoning teenagers when I signed up for the CIA, but everyone has their bad breaks." Agent Lopez didn't elaborate, stalking off in the direction of the school.

"She grows on you, right?" Kurt asked, peering into the back of the van. The back was a mess of computer monitors, keyboards, and the remnants of fast food containers. Sam, the one Kurt hadn't met yet, was blonde, with pretty green eyes, and a _enormous_ mouth. That was the stand-out feature of his face, poor guy. He also looked young, like Puck. From Kurt's best estimate, he was about the same height as Puck, but Sam was half-hidden behind monitors, so he couldn't really tell.

"If by 'grows on you,' you mean 'gets even more intolerable,' then yes," Puck said sarcastically.

"Dude, shut up," Sam said. "You're just mad that you're not sleeping with her anymore." Kurt's eyes went wide. Was that allowed? Was that what Santana had meant by a bad break?

"Whatever. She still needs to try decaf." Puck glanced at Kurt. "Get out of here, kid, we all have work to do, and Agent Lopez is long gone by now. She never notices when someone isn't following her."

Kurt's first impression of Dalton Academy was formal. There were hardly any kids loitering around the entrance, and those that were seemed to be bent over books or talking quietly in small groups. None of them were being overly-loud or obnoxious. It was kind of... relaxing, and definitely very new. Kurt could get used to this.

The main hallway was a little bit busier, but it still wasn't very loud or hectic. A helpful student pointed him towards the main office with no joke or attempts at misdirection. Dalton boys seemed genuinely pleasant. That was new too.

Kurt talked quickly with the principal, giving the man his admission papers and receiving, in return, several sets of uniforms, a new messenger bag (was Agent Lopez right about everything?), a schedule, a map, and his dorm assignment. He had almost forgotten about that. His luggage was still in the Navigator. Crap.

Deciding to deal with that later (no matter how mad Agent Lopez would get), Kurt headed to his dorm room, which was blissfully empty. The bell had already rung for first period, but the principal had told Kurt not to worry about it with a wink. It was... odd. Half of the dorm room seemed to be occupied, with books, laundry, sheet music, and CDs spread out all over the desk, bed, bedside table, and half of the floor. There was almost a perfect line down the middle of the room. Kurt turned to his side of the room, which was completely untouched. There was a bed, with headboard and footboard, a bedside table, a dresser with eight drawers, a small closet, and a reasonably sized desk. They all seemed to be a matching set.

"Welcome to Dalton," Kurt muttered to himself as he placed his uniforms on his bed.

"Odd," someone said from behind him, making him jump out of his skin. So much for having good hearing. "Those were going to be my first words. Shall I say them anyway, or are we good?"

The boy standing across the room from him was ridiculously gorgeous. Black hair gelled back, warm hazel eyes under (ridiculous and ridiculously cute) triangular eyebrows, long eyelashes, and a big smile. Kurt would place him at about five eight, with a sturdy build.

"I... um... I..." Smooth, Kurt. "Hi."

"Hello," the boy said with a grin, seeming unperturbed by Kurt's lack of eloquence. "I'm your roommate, Blaine Anderson, and..." Blaine was still talking, but there was no way Kurt was still listening. This... this... this gorgeous _god_ was his assignment, and he wasn't allowed to date him? Holy Jacobs. "They pulled me out of class because they figured I could show you the ropes. Besides, classes aren't going to be going on for long." Blaine winked at him. Kurt tried not to melt.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Kurt asked before he could think about it.

"Pardon?" Smooth.

"You and the principal seem to be in on some big joke about classes." That sounded _way_ too accusatory, judging by Blaine's expression.

"The Warblers are performing an impromptu number today," Blaine explained, his mild shock replaced by that big smile again. "We usually shut down the school for a while, and classes will be canceled after the performance."

Oh. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"'We?'" Kurt asked, then remembering the answer. "Oh, right, you're the lead singer of the Warblers."

"How did you know that?" Blaine asked, his silly eyebrows drawing together. Red alert.  
"I... uh... the principal mentioned it."

"Right," Blaine said like he didn't quite believe it. "Anyway, sorry the room's so messy, they didn't tell me you would be coming until this morning. In a hurry to get here?"

"Something like that," Kurt murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing." The conversation had kind of died out, so Kurt was looking around for something to talk about. He knew so little about Blaine. "Is that a Keats novel?"

"Yeah," Blaine said with a bright smile. "You like Keates?"

"I love Keats," Kurt said, relieved that Blaine was going right to something he knew about the mysterious doctor's son. "I think the six great odes are just phenomenal work." Blaine was looking at him quizzically.

"I think you're a little confused. Jonathan Keates is an English author who's still working. John Keats is a English romantic poet from the nineteenth century." Uh-oh. What the hell was the difference?

"I... oh."

"Yeah," Blaine said, looking down at his shoes. "John Keats is an amazing poet, but he didn't right any books." Kurt's face was red. He just knew it.

"_Can you hear me_?" Kurt almost jumped out of his skin at Agent Lopez's voice in his ear. He had forgotten about the earpiece and microphone.

"You should probably get changed," Blaine said, oblivious to the little voices in Kurt's head. "We only have a few minutes to get down to the performance." Blaine went and started tidying up.

"I... Shouldn't you..." Was Blaine going to stay in here while he changed?

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Blaine said with a laugh. "I forgot, when most people get here they're still uncomfortable changing in front of other guys. Don't worry, that'll go away." Why, exactly? "All right, I'll be in the hall."

Kurt changed quickly, muttering to his microphone all the while as he transferred gadgets into various pockets and switched out his messenger bags. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"_Well, I presumed you were a highly trained field agent and wouldn't squeak like a little girl_," Agent Lopez replied through the ear piece, and it was more vitriolic than normal. Obviously, being in the van made her tense. "_You're not doing a great job out there_."

"You didn't tell me he was hot!" Kurt protested.

"Are you all right in there?" Blaine called from the hallway. Crap, Blaine could hear him.

"Fine," Kurt replied, having no sort of excuse. "Listen, I'll be fine," he continued, this time in a quieter voice and closer to his microphone. "Blaine already invited me to some performance thing, and he's my roommate."

"_Thank you, Captain Obvious, it's not like I'm the government and I could have planned that or anything_," Agent Lopez said sarcastically. "_Get going_." A rush of static ended the conversation.

"Bitch," he muttered to himself.

"_I heard that_," Agent Lopez snapped.

* * *

**Ablewhite Building, Dalton Academy, 22 Warbler Lane, Westerville, OH 9:42:37  
**Blaine took the time to give Kurt a quick tour of the school before they headed to the performance. "Come on, I know a short-cut," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him out of the mob of students that had surrounded them. It was still low-key compared to McKinley, but everyone seemed excited.

Blaine was... holding his hand, Kurt realized. Of course, Blaine had grabbed the wrong hand, so he was pretty much pulling Kurt's arm out of its socket, but still. They were holding hands. Blaine's hands were rougher than his own, with calluses at the tip of every finger, suggesting he played the guitar or any stringed instrument, and rougher patches at his knuckles. Repeated exposure to a rough object, maybe?

"Are you ready to see what Dalton's really like?" Blaine asked once they reached a set of wide, wooden doors at the end of the hallway he had dragged Kurt down. Kurt realized he had been so absorbed in Blaine's hand that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. Bad agent. Bad.

"Based on you, I'm not entirely sure." Okay, maybe a little too early for the jokes. Blaine's face fell momentarily, but then he smiled again (it was a little more forced this time), and threw open the doors.

This room reminded Kurt of McKinley. It didn't have anything to do with the oriental rug, or the wood-paneled walls, or the well-kept furniture, or the chess sets that actually seemed to be used. No, it had to do with the masses of over-excited teenagers covering all of these things in little groups. All of them were loud and chatting, eagerly watching another group.

"Stay here," Blaine said, parking him in about the middle of the oriental. "And welcome to Dalton, new kid."

"_And yes, in case you're wondering, you haven't told him your name yet. Smooth, agent._" Agent Lopez was a very annoying voice to have in his head, and Kurt considered chucking his earpiece in a trash can for a moment.

"_I know she's annoying, but it's not worth it,_" Sam's voice came over the line. "_You have to pay for any government equipment you lose_." Well, that answers that question.

"Stop reading my mind," he snapped at them, earning chuckles in his earpiece. He looked up, and Blaine was watching him again, with a curious expression. Great. Blaine seemed to mutter something to the boy on his left, and an a cappella accompaniment started up. It was vaguely recognizable.

_She's good lookin' got her mojo cookin' yeah  
__Wouldn't give me the time of day but  
__If my occupation was a star in a constellation  
__We could get together in the Milky Way_

The Warblers seemed to be amazing, and Kurt took a mental note. He had to remember to ask Blaine about joining them, if Blaine still wanted to speak to him, that was. Their choreography was a little stiff, but everyone in the room was getting into it.

_And everybody wanna know somebody  
__Everyone wants to drop your name  
__You need no reservation  
__No special invitation  
__No college education if you've got fortune and fame_

Not only were the Warblers a diverse bunch, the whole school seemed to be, and they didn't seem to divide into cliques or be concerned with social status (not that he had been there very long, but it was just a feeling of... community, almost). There were variations of the uniform, Kurt noticed as he looked around the room, and he would have to investigate the pile of clothing he had left in his room. He was wearing the standard blazer-tie combination, which seemed to be favored. Crap, his luggage was _still _in the Navigator.

_1-2-3-4!  
__Everyone I know wants to be a star  
__And we are and we are and we are  
__Everyone I know wants to be a star  
__And we are and we are and we are and we are_

The CIA definitely needed to get a better man for pictures, because Kurt was _not_ prepared for someone like Blaine. Admittedly, the fact that he went to a private, Catholic academy had given Kurt a... a certain mindset, but Blaine was _cute_. Gorgeous, even. Happy and smiling and nonjudgmental. Plus, he couldn't dance. At all. But he tried, and even that was cute. He threw in some lame 90s moves that had Kurt giggling in spite of himself, and he kept throwing bright smiles at Kurt. Huh.

_Now I'm snappin' got my mojo crackin'  
__Got my whole thing happenin' at center stage and  
__She's there lookin' up at me  
__Desperately in love with me  
__Just can't get enough of me if I've got fortune and fame_

Dalton really seemed to be like a nice place. Admittedly, Kurt hadn't gotten a good look at Blaine's short-cut because he had been too distracted by the boy himself, but the rest of the school seemed to be pleasant. There were no lockers, which made sense, but was also a little bit of an adjustment for him. Still, the school was beautiful, with stain glass ceilings, spiral staircases with intricately-wrought banisters, tile floors which were immaculate, and wall-paper covered walls. Kurt had a feeling he would get used to this school really quickly.

_1-2-3-4!  
__Everyone I know wants to be a star  
__And we are and we are and we are and we are  
__Everyone I know wants to be a star  
__Drives in a limousine, eats caviar  
__Wants to be recognized walkin' down the boulevard  
__Everyone I know wants to be a star  
__And we are and we are and we are and we are  
__And we are and we are and we are and we are  
__And you are..._

The Warblers were phenomenal. Absolutely amazing. So much better than the rag-tag Glee club at McKinley, still led by that creepy Sandy Ryerson. Kurt shuddered.

"What did you think?" Blaine asked, approaching him with a bright smile.

"You were great. Um, I mean... not just you, but you know 'you' can be used-"

"I get it," Blaine said with a hesitant smile. "And thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So, do I get to know your name, or is it a big secret?" Blaine asked with that same bright smile. Jacobs, he was cute.

"_Real name_."

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt introduced himself, guided by that annoying little voice in his ear.

"Nice to meet you, Kurt Hummel," Blaine replied, offering a hand to shake. "So, as predicted, classes are canceled. How about we grab coffee, and you can tell me a little more about yourself?"

"Sounds good," Kurt said with a smile. Blaine took his hand again (tactile, or... flirting, maybe?) and led him out of the room. Kurt took a quick look back and noticed how the boys in the school were talking to the Warblers, fake-proposing and asking for autographs. It's like the male high school students idolized the show choir. Probably something never said before in human history.

"So, what school are you from?" Blaine asked as he led them back down the shortcut, occasionally smiling at someone or calling out a greeting. A few students looked appraisingly at their conjoined hands, but no one commented.

"McKinley High." That got him a blank look. "In Lima."

"Isn't that a little far from here?" Blaine asked.

"I... needed some air, I guess." He really should have thought about his answers to questions like this before.

"Fair enough. Sometimes it's nice to be able to get away from the parents for a while. Trouble at home?" Either this boy had absolutely no filter, or he was just naturally curious. Or both.

"No, just... adapting." Blaine looked at him curiously. "I recently acquired a step-mother and irritant of a step-brother." Blaine nodded sagely.

"Ah, I see. That must be difficult." Blaine squeezed his hand and Kurt almost tripped over his own feet. "There's a nice little cafeteria upstairs," he said, leading Kurt up one of the spiral staircases he had noticed earlier. "But they're okay with you..."

"Me what?" Kurt asked, confused.

"Well, I mean, I suppose I just assumed, but aren't you..." Blaine gestured kind of helplessly. It clicked in Kurt's head what he was trying to say. The whisper of "_your sexuality, you idiot_," in his ear wasn't at all necessary.

"Oh, yes. I'm gay. And no, none of my family has a problem with that."

"I'm glad..." Blaine said absently. "I wish I had that."

"Pardon?"

"My father isn't very accepting of the very same fact," Blaine said with a smile. "I'm gay, in case you were wondering." Blaine was blushing a little. Definitely flirting then.

"Oh yeah." Agent Lopez had told him that.

"'Oh yeah?'" Blaine asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Crap.

"Nothing. That's just usually something someone says when they're being reminded of something they already knew." Kurt was red. He knew it. Crap.

"Um... I... no."

"Okay," Blaine said with a smile. "You're a little weird, aren't you?" he asked. He released Kurt's hand as he pushed open the door, and he didn't take it again once they were both in the medium-sized, abandoned cafeteria.

"Just nervous, I guess."

"Fair enough," Blaine replied. "It must be nerve-wracking to be at a brand new school, plus the fact that you're boarding now, _plus_ the fact that you've gone from public to private. It's a big change, I know. What do you want?"

"What?"

"For coffee?" Blaine gestured to the espresso machine.

"Oh." Kurt had never made anything with an espresso machine. "Erm, vanilla latte?"

"Easy enough." Blaine started messing with the machine. A latte wasn't Kurt's usual coffee order, but he had no idea what the machine made, and it was good enough. "So, what classes are you in?"

Kurt pulled out his schedule from his new Dalton messenger bag. "AP US History, Physics, Precalculus..." Holy crap, this guy was really smart. At about the fourth class Kurt listed off, Blaine dropped a coffee cup.

"Wow, you're in _every_ one of my classes. That's... odd." Blaine didn't comment further, picking up the cup he had dropped, throwing it in the trash, and getting a new cup just in time to catch the stream of coffee coming from the machine. "A latte for you," Blaine switched out the cups, "and a latte for me."

"We'll get a chance to know each other well," Kurt hedged. This was what the CIA got for being so creepy.

"Plus the fact that we share a dorm..." Blaine was starting to sound suspicious. Uh-oh.

"Tell me about yourself," Kurt blurted out, taking a sip of his coffee. He regretted that, considering it was still boiling hot, and Kurt spit it out to prevent his mouth from getting burned. About half of it ended up on Blaine's shoe. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's... fine." Blaine didn't sound so certain. "Um, I'm originally from Westerville, and I went to public schools up until about halfway through ninth grade." Blaine didn't elaborate. "My father's a scientist, my brother is Matt Bomer, and I'm a junior."

"Me too." Blaine looked at him quizzically. "I'm a junior, not that my dad or my brother's... What does your dad do?"

"He's a scientist," Blaine repeated. Great, now he probably thought Kurt was in special ed.

"What kind of science?"

"Sub-atomic particles. He's been working on some big project that's taken the entire span of my basement and involves giant tanks of water being carted in on a regular basis. That's all I know about it, it's pretty hush-hush. He's working for some big company." Did Blaine really not know more than that? "Boring stuff, huh?"

"I actually like science," Kurt hedged. On one hand, maybe if Blaine thought Kurt was interested, he would tell him more. On the other, if Blaine suddenly got the idea to introduce Kurt to his father, he was going to have to do some quick thinking. And he wasn't so good at that around Blaine.

"Then why aren't you taking more science classes?" Blaine asked. "I mean, we have AP Anatomy, Bio, Chemistry... all sorts of things that might be a little more interesting to you." Blaine sounded suspicious again.

"I... um..." Shoot.

"_My school doesn't offer a lot of science classes_," the voice in his ear offered, and Kurt repeated the words exactly, glad she had realized he was going to do so, "_and Dalton put me in the nearest equivalent of the classes I was already signed up for. Once I'm a little more accustomed to the school, I might transfer around_."

"Oh," Blaine said, accepting the stilted reply. "Makes sense. The last mid-term transfer Dalton allowed was me, and my father... well, the school appreciates what he had to offer, if you catch my drift." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"_You're worse at this than I thought_," the voice in his ear commented once she realized the disaster was avoided.

"Shut up," he muttered to his microphone.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Are all kids at Dalton rich?" Kurt asked, and apparently that sounded kind of judgmental, because Blaine flushed.

"I... well... tuition is steep, so kind of, but that doesn't mean we're all stuck up or anything," Blaine said, sounding kind of upset and kind of defensive.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine."

"I keep sticking my foot in my mouth," Kurt murmured, but Blaine caught that.

"Yeah. Maybe we should just not talk for a while." Blaine got up, taking his coffee mug with him. "I'll see you in our dorm."

"Shoot," Kurt muttered once Blaine was out of sight.

"_Smooth_."

"Shut up."

* * *

**CIA Headquarters, Downtown Columbus, Columbus, OH 14:13:36  
**Kurt had looked for Blaine for about an hour following his string of little mishaps, but Blaine was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the school wasn't nearly as friendly. Not that they weren't _civil_, it's just that none of them seemed interested in talking to him, and either nobody knew where Blaine was, or nobody wanted to tell him. Maybe Blaine had _told_ people not to tell him. Shoot.

Kurt had given up eventually, after having gotten hopelessly lost in the school and having to navigate his way out using the map, garnering a ton of odd looks and a few giggles. High school. No matter how stringently the administration enforces a no-bullying policy, there's always going to be some snickering.

Kurt had eventually made his way back to his dorm. Blaine wasn't in there either, and for the third time, Kurt had remembered that his luggage was _still _in the Navigator, which he was supposed to move anyway. To ensure everyone had parking, Dalton assigned lots in various parking lots, going first by class, and then presumably by how much the student's parents had donated. Kurt wondered how good his spot was. He was government, after all.

He was getting used to the route from his dorm to the parking lot and back. He pushed away the sad thought that after this trip he would have to learn a new route, which could be farther and a lot more complex. Awesome.

Agent Lopez had been leaning against the surveillance van, which was once again parked next to the Navigator. Had they ever left that spot? "The Director wants to see you," she had said as soon as he approached, and she hadn't sound happy.

"I just came to grab my stuff."

"I think you misunderstood me," she had replied icily. "The Director wants to see you _now_, because you are such a monumental fuck-up that you can't last one day without insulting your target." Then she had sounded steamed. "Get in the Navigator, I'm driving you to Columbus." There had been no arguing with her at that point, so Kurt had gotten into the car, being coldly redirected to the passenger seat.

Kurt was sitting once again at the circular table of mission control in the part of the Columbus CIA headquarters that was submerged in the lake. This would sound cool, except that everyone around the table was angry with him to various degrees. Great.

"So, when you told us you could handle this mission," Director Schuester said, sounding as cold as Santana had outside of Dalton, "you neglected to mention that you're incapable of _talking to boys_!" Kurt had never seen the director yell, and he looked much more intimidating when he did.

"I _can_ talk to boys," Kurt said in his defense. "I'm just used to average, straight ones, and I'm not used to having to lie about everything."

"You're not _lying_ about anything. You are an undercover agent who is incapable of being professional!" the director continued to yell.

"You didn't tell me he was hot!" Kurt defended himself, and Agent Lopez face-palmed. This, oddly enough, seemed to calm the director and amuse the rest of the silent board.

"We spent ten million dollars training juvenile agents, and you are the exact embodiment of why some people thought teenagers were a bad idea. You're impulsive and you get distracted by your hormones!" Director Schuester banged a fist against the table. "Now I understand that argument. This is national security! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"He _was_ flirting with me," Kurt argued. "At first. I just... put my foot in my mouth."

"Repeatedly," Agent Lopez added.

"Agent Lopez, is this true?" Thankfully, Kurt's fellow agent nodded.

"Some parts of the conversation did go smoothly, director," she answered. "Perhaps Kurt just needs more information that can be easily slipped into conversation. His favorite kind of music and books and his coffee order aren't going to cut it."

"Santana, the last thing Agent Hummel needs is more information. Almost every slip-up was because he either already knew something, or we were talking in his ear," Puck announced as he and Sam walked down the stairs. "Kurt just needs to chill, and Agent Lopez needs to give him some space. When they were just talking, he was doing fine."

"Agent Puckerman, what do you suggest our next move is?" His name's Puck Puckerman? What kind of name was that?

"Give him another go at it, but this time let _him_ decide what he's gonna do, and only step in if he really needs it. Santana knows what I'm talking about, like when you smoothed over the whole science thing." Director Schuester was nodding, but Agent Lopez was shaking her head.

"While I admire your... experience," it sounded like Agent Lopez was picking her words carefully, "Kurt made plenty of mistakes before we began talking to him, Noah." What the hell was this guy's name?

"Yeah, but it was all because he knew too much about the guy." Agent Puckerman shrugged. "They seem like they have good chemistry. Why don't we just let them actually get to know each other, instead of sticking our noses into everything. Ix-nay on the earpiece, and if Kurt screws up again we can pull him out." Two chances, that was it? What happened to three strikes?

"I agree with Agent Puckerman," Director Schuester announced once Santana went to talk again. "He's been a field agent, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. Agent Hummel, try to relax, and I promise Agent Lopez won't be interfering anymore." Agent Lopez was glaring at Puck. Obviously, he had accidentally (or not so accidentally?) shifted the blame onto her. Whoops. She was going to be lovely to work with. "One more chance, you got that?"

"I won't let you down, sir."

Director Schuester left, and Kurt groaned. "You're lucky to have gotten off scott-free, mini-Agent," Sam said with a grin.

"That's not what I'm groaning about," Kurt replied. "You've sent me to the most high-achieving school in Ohio, and you expect me to spend all of my time trying to befriend a cute boy. I have so much homework to do, I won't see Blaine's face for the next six hours." Not that Blaine probably wanted to see him, but that was neither here nor there. "I have to do two chapters of Precalculus, write an essay on Henry the IV, plus do about forty physics problems." According to the website a sympathetic senior had shown him. Apparently, no classes did _not_ mean no homework.

"The agency will take care of your homework," Agent Lopez said, dismissive. "Give it all to Sam and Puck when we get back to Dalton. You focus on the boy."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is a little late, but I was out-of-state at a business conference this week and posting wasn't the first thing on my mind. I'll be better, I promise. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. This is where it starts deviating from the plot of 'Agent Cody Banks' (the movie it's based on), but I tried to save some of my favorite parts. As for the song, it's called **'_Fortune and Fame_' by the KGB**, and what I tried to do with this song (and in future chapters) is use songs that could be featured in action movies. This song actually **_**was**_** featured in Agent Cody Banks, but not all of them are songs from that movie.**

**Reviews are Love.**


	3. The Second Impression

**Winthrop House, Dalton Academy, 124 Washington Avenue, Westerville, OH 18:03:46  
**When Kurt returned to his room (finally remembering to bring his luggage), Blaine was sitting at his desk, humming to himself (Kurt didn't recognize the song), and biting the end of his pencil as he read. Blaine didn't say anything upon his entry, so Kurt was silent as well, putting away his clothes and uniforms, and unpacking his books from his messenger bag onto his desk. He hadn't brought along many personal items (Agent Berry had advised against it, because he didn't want to be too remarkable... whatever that meant), but he had brought along his collection of Keats (which he acquired the Friday he got his mission) and some CDs that he thought Blaine might like, based on what Director Schuester had told him. Since Blaine still seemed determined not to talk to him, Kurt put on Swedish House Mafia at a low volume on his iPod speaker, and sat down as if to do homework. Of course, the agency was doing all of his homework for him, but Blaine really couldn't know that.

_There was a time  
__I used to look into my father's eyes  
__In a happy home  
__I was a king, I had a golden throne_

"I love this song," Blaine said, not turning around. Still, the silence became more comfortable.

"It's a great song, for being pop music." Kurt actually did like this song.

"Hey, hey, hey, no need to pick on popularity," Blaine replied, turning around in his desk chair and smiling. "Great music is great music, no matter how infectious the general populace considers it... and it never ages. Great music is like fine wine... and women, when men want to appease them." Kurt laughed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

"It's fine. I was being an idiot." Blaine nodded sagely, making Kurt giggle some more.

"Truce?"

"Truce." Blaine stood up and they shook on it. "I'm thinking about joining Glee club," Kurt said as Blaine sat back down.

"The Warblers," Blaine corrected. "No one around here calls it Glee club. Not even show choir." Well, that was weird."

"Okay. Culture-shock, but okay." Blaine chuckled.

"I'll put in a good word for you with the council."

"Council?"

"There are three senior Warblers that make all the decisions. We don't have a director, but Wes, David, and Thad work just as well. Can you sing?"

"_Upon a hill across a blue lake_," Kurt sang out instead of replying, "_that's where I had my first heartbreak_." He really didn't like the almost techno-rock that Swedish House Mafia peddled, but Blaine liked popular music.

"_I still remember how it all changed,_" Blaine sang in reply with a laugh. "_My father said_..."

"_Don't you worry, don't you worry, child. See heaven's got a plan for you_," they sang together, and Blaine was still laughing.

"A countertenor. Very unique. David will _love_ you, he's always trying to get us to diversify our sound." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you diversity enough?" Kurt said before he had thought about it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Thankfully, Blaine laughed.

"That's not quite what I meant by diversity," Blaine answered. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I'm, if _we're_, not a minority at this school. You'll see what I mean, believe me."

"The more you say about this school, the more scared I am for tomorrow." Blaine raised an eyebrow. "No one has any modesty, more than half the school is gay..." Blaine was laughing.

"Yes, well, just because it's unique, doesn't mean it's scary. It's actually pretty awesome actually, once you get used to it." Blaine looked over at the clock. "My brain's already beat, and I'm hungry. Want to go grab some dinner?"

"Sure," Kurt said, glad he seemed to be back in Blaine's good graces.

* * *

**Ablewhite Building, Dalton Academy, 22 Warbler Lane, Westerville, OH 18:32:28  
**It was quite a trek from Blaine and Kurt's dorms to the main cafeteria, which Blaine called 'the Commons,' but Blaine kept Kurt entertained by telling him all sorts of stories about crazy things that had happened at Dalton. Blaine was interrupted every few seconds by someone saying hi to him or wanting to give him a high-five, but the stories were still funny. Blaine introduced so many people and places Kurt was sure he would get completely lost at this school, but he was more than happy to point about and explain. He made an excellent welcoming committee.

"So where were you this afternoon? You just disappeared," Blaine asked as they walked into the Commons, which, oddly, looked just like a normal school cafeteria... minus all the options they had, the wooden, clean tables and chairs, and the giant stage that took up a portion of the room.

"I got my luggage from my car and called my very concerned parents to tell them that the Dalton students aren't trying to convert me." Thankfully, that made Blaine laugh.

"To Catholicism or heterosexuality?"

"Either." Blaine smiled.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself then. We can talk to Wes, David, and Thad after dinner about you joining the Warblers. They're usually very picky about audition dates, but they might allow it because you're a mid-term transfer. Plus, they love me." Blaine led the way through the tables, which seemed more clique-oriented than the Warbler's performance had, to the back of the cafeteria, where the food was, saying hi to everyone. He seemed to be just a genuinely nice person.

Blaine piled up his plate with just about everything, and Kurt was relieved to find that they had organic options along with all the greasy pizza that Finn could dream of. "Oh great, you eat like a bird," Blaine commented with a grin. "I swear to God, all skinny people think _that_ counts as food. He's on me," Blaine directed towards the lady who was at the cash register. She nodded, and Blaine walked off as she pressed a few buttons. Kurt saw Blaine's name flash on the screen briefly. "It's a first day tradition to be bought your food," Blaine said as if he sensed Kurt was going to object. "I'm not making a pass at you or anything."

Blaine led all the way back to the stage, where there was a clump of students sitting at a bunch of tables that were pushed together. Kurt recognized most of them as Warblers. "Hello, Blaine," an Asian boy greeted him calmly.

"Blaine, did you pick up a new puppy?" an African-American boy asked with a grin, and he appeared to be referring to Kurt. "Honestly, every time there's a new student, he ends up over here, desperately in love with you."

"Very funny. Kurt Hummel, meet Wesley Montgomery and David Thompson," Blaine introduced the two, gesturing to the Asian and African-American respectively. "I apologize now for anything you might here, and I _assure_ you that none of it's true." He glared at David as he said that.

"It's very true, Kurt," David assured him in return. "Sit down." He gestured to the chairs next to them, and Blaine sat down, gesturing for Kurt to sit down next to him. "So, is this one actually a potential Warbler or did you really just pick up a stray again?"

"Ha ha," Blaine said dryly, not even bothering to make it sound like a laugh. "Actually, Kurt did say to me earlier that he was interested in joining the Warblers."

"Were you entirely clothed?" David asked with a raised eyebrow, and Wes smacked him upside the head.

"I apologize for my boyfriend's behavior," Wes said calmly, and Kurt tried not to look surprised. "Yes, unbelievably, I do love him dearly," Wes said as if he was reading Kurt's mind, smiling a little. Kurt looked at them both briefly and realized that based on the angle of their shoulders, they were either holding hands or... doing other things under the table.

"I _am _interested in becoming a Warbler," Kurt repeated what Blaine had already established, having no idea what to say.

"Does he have a problem?"

"He's gay."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Dave, Blaine, shut up," Wes said rather fondly, cutting off their little exchange. "The Warblers, unfortunately do not accept mid-term applicants. Perhaps next year."

"Wes, come on, he's a transfer. Cut him some slack." Wes looked at him impassively. "David, help me out."

"Come on, Wes, if he can sing we should give him a chance." David turned to look at his boyfriend while he was saying this, his shoulder shifted, and Wes' eyes widened slightly.

"L-leniency policies would dictate an audition for next semester," he choked out.

"Stop that, David, we still need him to be coherent," Blaine admonished.

"Sorry, sorry," David said with a very unapologetic grin, moving his hand away again. "Come on, babe, just let him audition."

"Fine. You may audition tomorrow. I hope you have a song prepared," Wes went back to sounding impassive, and David rolled his eyes.

"That's the best you're going to get, new kid."

"He has a name."

"Too bad."

* * *

**Winthrop House, Dalton Academy, 124 Washington Avenue, Westerville, OH 23:03:46  
**It had taken Blaine almost five hours to do the rest of his homework, so Kurt had spent the time researching Stheno (the company that wanted to kill him, not the mythological monster). The agency had been more than right. Stheno had a history of being ruthless, and Kurt couldn't even count the number of smaller companies they had either destroyed and re-built under their name, or absorbed without buying. The fact that the government hadn't shut them down as a monopoly yet was amazing, but the fact was that they controlled so many factions of so many different processes, it was hard to pinpoint what the company actually did.

Sue Sylvester seemed to be a mythological monster in her own right. She had reportedly been '29' for about twenty-eight years, and all sorts of rumors had circulated about bad things she had done to either curry favor or eliminate competition. There was a publicized rumor that she had slept with the President of the United States. The newspaper that had published the rumor first hadn't survived her wrath, but there were carbon-copies of the article all over the Internet. She had a twistedly-admirable criminal record and community service record, but nothing could be called philanthropy. Public accusations had been made to the murder of a prominent lobbyist who had fought against her, but the charges had never stuck because not one bit of the man's corpse had been found.

Dustin Goolsby was the only man the company had mentioned to him that he couldn't find on the payroll, which wasn't all that surprising. Judging by the way Agents Lopez and Berry had described him, he sounded quite a bit like a trained assassin and a begrudging henchmen. However, it was quite easy to find the last name, his grandfather was Raymond Goolsby, a former Major league Baseball player, and the family was very wealthy. Kurt wondered briefly what exactly made him work for Sue Sylvester, because it couldn't be the money. What did she have over him, and if she was out of the picture, would he still be a part of the organization? Kurt filed the information away for later.

"Done," Blaine announced finally, turning around in his spinny-chair quickly and causing Kurt to slam him laptop shut. Thankfully, Blaine didn't comment. "Do you have a song for your audition yet?"

"I was thinking about doing _Defying_-"

"Oh, no, no, no," Blaine interrupted him halfway through the song title. "I mean, obviously that's an amazing song, and if that's your range it would be amazing to hear you perform it-"

"That _is_ my range-"

"But not for an audition for the Warblers," Blaine interrupted. "The Warblers are so afraid of becoming 'privileged porcelain birds' that they insist on doing all of the most current music. If you try _anything_ that hasn't made the Hot 100 in the last five or so years, Wes will just cut your music off."

"So I basically have to sing some awful pop song to appease your crazy student director?" Kurt worried for a moment Blaine was going to take offense to that (the agency had informed him that Blaine liked pop music) but it didn't even seem to register.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"What did you audition for the Warblers with?" Kurt asked, and Blaine sighed.

"I did Jason Mraz's _I'm Yours_," Blaine said with a smile. "It's a great song, completely tolerable," Kurt couldn't argue with that, "and it was really big that year."

"Any suggestions, Warbler guru?" Blaine snorted at that.

"Far from it, and no, not really. I could think of about a hundred if you weren't actually a countertenor, but only you can know what shows your voice off best."

"So helpful," Kurt turned back to his computer, opening it and very subtly closing the window on the Goolsby family history, or so he hoped.

"Goolsby?" Blaine asked, walking across the room to peer at the web page just as Kurt closed it. "Why are you researching the name Goolsby?"

"Curiosity," Kurt lied, not able to think of a better reason. "My cousin married a Goolsby."

"My dad has a Goolsby over all the time," Blaine responded. "He's really weird. He doesn't talk much, when he does it's sarcasm, and my father doesn't actually seem to enjoy spending time with him... I guess he's one of my father's science buddies."

"What's his name?" Blaine looked at him curiously. "Maybe we're related."

"Dunstan or something," Blaine said with a shrug. "Apparently he researches the same sub-atomic particles my father does, and they're collaborating. He always mentions some third party, but he never mentions her by name." So, Blaine knew Dustin Goolsby, and he obviously knew about Sylvester too. "All people that have money know other people with money. It's just fact," Blaine said with a laugh.

"I bet."

Blaine went to sit on his bed, and Kurt pulled up his iTunes, thinking about his audition for the first time. It was a key part of the plan that he got into the Warblers, and he hadn't been worried about it until now.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Blaine asked unexpectedly, and Kurt started.

"Do you think something more country would be what the Warblers want?" he asked instead of answering.

"Probably not. Country's too slow for a cappella. When you get into slower songs, it just gets boring." Blaine sounded slightly dejected.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend. What about Alicia Keys?"

"She might work. Would you maybe-" Kurt's phone rang.

"Excuse me," he said as his new mobile command center flashed the agency logo. "I should take this."

"Uh, okay." Plus, it gave Kurt a reason to not have to answer Blaine's question. He certainly didn't want to say no, but he couldn't say yes.

"Hello?"

"_I'm your mother, do you understand?_" Agent Lopez asked without pausing to say hello.

"Hi, mom," Kurt said, swallowing down just a hint of guilt. "How are you?"

"_Come down to your car, we have your homework. And you weren't kidding about the amount even a little, were you_?"

"Not even a bit," Kurt said with a grin. "I'll take this out in the hallway," Kurt whispered to Blaine, who nodded, pulling out his computer without another word. Kurt waited until he was a good twenty feet away from their dorm door to whisper, "my mother's dead."

"_Oh, and I'm an insensitive bitch. What a shock._"

* * *

**Winthrop House, Dalton Academy, 124 Washington Avenue, Westerville, OH 21:45:33  
**By the time Kurt got back to the dorm he shared with Blaine, the tenor was already asleep, the lights off in their room and Blaine's soft breath the only noise. Kurt tried not to look over at Blaine's bed, knowing everyone looked ten times cuter when they were asleep, and instead grabbed his pajamas in the dark, slipping into the bathroom. Agent Lopez had brusquely given him his homework (which Sam and Puck took the credit for in a yell), and told him that all subsequent tests and quizzes would be managed in much the same manner (she didn't specify). She then gave him a thirty minute brief on how she thought he was doing, revealing that she had very purposefully cut Blaine off from asking him out, once again stressing that Kurt wasn't to date him for fear of antagonizing Dr. Anderson towards him. Kurt was kind of tired of getting the warning. He got it.

Kurt got ready for bed quickly, forgoing his normal moisturizing routine because his products were still on his bed and he didn't want to wake his roommate. Plus, it was almost midnight and he was tired. It had been a very interesting few days.

Kurt made sure to turn off the bathroom light before he opened the door, slipping back into the dark room. There was a nice wide window between the beds that illuminated Blaine in moonlight and _Jacobs_, he was cute. He looked so young in the moonlight, his almost criminally-long eyelashes shedding dark shadows across his relaxed face. His hair was un-gelled, curly, bushy, and a little bit mussed.

"Goodnight, Blaine," he whispered as he climbed into bed.

"Night," Blaine muttered sleepily, rolling over and out of the moonlight.

* * *

**Girard Building, Dalton Academy, 94 Warbler Lane, Westerville, OH 14:59:05  
**Kurt was standing outside the door, waiting for his Warbler audition. He hadn't asked Blaine to clear his song, and it was a little outside the five-year range Blaine had given him, but it had been popular in its day, and most people knew and liked the song.

"Kurt Hummel!" Wes' voice called out from the room, and Kurt opened both doors for himself, attempting as dramatic an entrance as possible when he had to open the door for himself. "Kurt Hummel, a countertenor, will be auditioning for the Warblers this afternoon. I expect you all to give him your respectful attention." Kurt expected Wes to say something more, but David nodded at him expectantly. Okay, that was it.

Kurt handed his karaoke track off to a very helpful blonde Warbler and stood in front of the room, prepared to wow them with his voice. Hopefully.

_Some people live for the fortune  
__Some people live just for the fame  
__Some people live for the power, yeah  
__Some people live just to play the game_

Jazz perhaps wasn't his best genre, but it was a great song, and easy enough to pull off on the fly. It was an unusual feeling to have no one looking at him in awe or surprise. Kurt kind of hated Wes for announcing that he was a countertenor. Shock value was the best.

_Some people think that the physical things  
__Define what's within  
__And I've been there before  
__But that life's a bore  
__So full of the superficial_

Kurt started weaving around his audience at this part, and the council didn't look thrilled with his performance thus far. The one on the left end, the only one he hadn't met, looked kind of interested, but both Wes and David had completely blank expressions. Great.

_Some people want it all  
__But I don't want nothing at all  
__If it ain't you baby  
__If I ain't got you baby_

_Some people want diamond rings  
__Some just want everything  
__But everything means nothing  
__If I ain't got you_

Kurt did his best to belt out the chorus and keep up with the tempo, using the most of his rather impressive lungs, and David nudged Wes. Kurt had absolutely no idea what they were saying with their couple telepathy, but it seemed to favor him.

_Some people search for a fountain  
__That promises forever young  
__Some people need three dozen roses  
__And that's the only way to prove you love them_

Kurt loved the note on 'roses,' because it was the longest belt in the song, but other than that, the second verse was mediocre compared to the first.

_Hand me the world on a silver platter  
__And what good would it be  
__With no one to share  
__With no one who truly cares for me_

David was smiling now, but Wes still looked unimpressed. Kurt had yet to look at his roommate, because, well... he really hadn't thought his song choice through so well. Considering Blaine had _almost_ asked him out last night, singing a romantic song the next day that had related to that conversation maybe was a little indicative of his answer... which couldn't, for national security reasons, be yes.

_Some people want it all  
__But I don't want nothing at all  
__If it ain't you baby  
__If I ain't got you baby_

_Some people want diamond rings  
__Some just want everything  
__But everything means nothing  
__If I ain't got you_

_Yeah  
__If I ain't got you with me baby  
__So nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing  
__If I ain't got you with me baby_

Kurt ended the song as strong as possible with the weird outro Alicia Keys had chosen, but his song was only followed by polite clapping. Maybe the Warblers were more restricted during rehearsals than they were during performances?

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel. Please wait in the hall while we deliberate."

Kurt hadn't been waiting in the hallway for very long before Blaine came out. "Hello."

"How goes it in Warblerland?" Kurt asked, feeling pretty confident about his chances, but his hopes were quickly dashed.

"Not very well," Blaine answered. "The Warblers, as a show choir who believes very much in synergy and absolutely abhors drama, doesn't exactly feel comfortable..."

"What?"

"Shall we call it 'inviting a diva into our midst?'" Blaine asked with a sigh, sitting down next to Kurt on the bench he had chosen outside the rehearsal space. "Kurt, you have an amazing voice, and you obviously know that, but you might just be a little too... _flashy_ for the Warblers. I mean, we _depend_ on how well we sound _together_, we don't want anyone to stand out too much."

"What about you?" Kurt asked, a little annoyed and trying not to be too insulted.

"I'm the Vocal Captain," Blaine said with a shrug. "That's my job, and no one seems to care. The fact that you do almost exacerbates why Wes thinks you might not make a good addition to the team." Crap, crap, crap.

"Blaine, it's not like I was the number one soloist at some other show choir," Kurt argued. "I wasn't even _part_ of the show choir at my old school because it was run by a gay child molester," Blaine opened his mouth to react to that, but Kurt continued talking, "I'm fine with being in the background. It was just a question." Blaine opened his mouth again, but closed it, as if he had decided not to say something.

"Fair enough," he clearly decided on. "Come on, its expected that you're in the room for your... well, I would call it a vote, but it's more like a trial. At least you get a chance to defend yourself." Blaine stood up and held out a hand. Kurt did his best not be petty and accepted the help. He _needed_ to be a part of the Warblers, and the government definitely couldn't help him with this one. "Out of curiosity, why did you sing that song?"

"The actual song choice, or just my decision in general?"

"Weirdest question ever, but I think the second one. Your... thematic decision, shall we say." Blaine hadn't let go of his hand, and Kurt really needed to find the strength to pull away.

"I wanted to be outstanding. Usually, as a countertenor, I have shock value on my side, but since you even knew what a countertenor _was_, I wanted to make an impression. I guess I did-"

"It just wasn't exactly the one you _wanted_ to make," Blaine said, nodding in understanding. "It'll be all right. I'm sure David's sheer desire for your voice will make his decision, and he always seems to make Wes'. Wes is so whipped." Blaine sounded a little wistful, and that was enough to make Kurt pull his hand away as Blaine opened the doors. Thankfully, the tenor didn't say anything.

"Let us begin," Wes said as soon as they entered. "Senior Warbler David, what do you think?"

"Wessy, we've discussed this," David said with a grin, making the rest of the Warblers snicker at the little nickname and Wes glare at his boyfriend.

"Senior Warbler David, what is your _official_ opinion?" Wes said coldly, and David rolled his eyes, kissing the pout off Wes' lips and making Kurt's eyes widen slightly despite his professionalism. Jeez.

"Since Wes seems to be making us into the judges for American Idol, it's a yes," David said with a grin, but Wes didn't look mad. Just kind of blissed. "Since Senior Warbler Wessy seems a little out of sorts, Senior Warbler That-"

"It's _Thad_, David. We've known each other for ten years!" Oh, so the last member of the Warbler council was _Thad_. Blaine had mentioned that before, right?

"Whatever. Senior Warbler Stick-Ass, what is your _official_ opinion?" David mocked his still-unfocused boyfriend.

"I... Pass," Thad said, looking guiltily at Kurt.

"Not-Really-Senior-Warbler-But-Close-Enough Vocal Captain Blaine, I'm guessing I know your opinion, but I'll still give you a chance to say it."

"It's a yes," Blaine said, but he had put distance between himself and Kurt to do so. A lot of distance, considering they had been holding hands only moments ago.

"Senior Warbler That-Meister, we're returning to you." At that point, Thad gave up. "What is your opinion?"

"It's a yes."

"Senior Warbler Wessy-poo, you're _technically_ the deciding vote, since this is actually a dictatorship. I warn you, revolution is possible." David was teasing Wes, who looked annoyed again.

"It's a no."

"Too bad," David said. "Congratulations, Kurt Hummel, welcome to the Warblers."

* * *

**Winthrop House, Dalton Academy, 124 Washington Avenue, Westerville, OH 16:27:33  
**Blaine was doing his homework again, and Kurt had already passed his off to the agency and been informed to retrieve it after dinner. He had his first test in Precalculus the next day, and he was interested to see exactly how the government agency would handle it, because he was so over his head in that class, it wasn't even funny. Thankfully, the teacher had seen his homework and seemed to think he was a genius, thus she was bitter and never asked him questions.

Kurt had absolutely nothing to do, since his research was done and the Warblers practice had ended after David had made the executive decision to allow him into the club... but it had been close, he knew that. What the hell had happened?

"You just need to learn to fit in," Blaine said, as if he could read Kurt's mind. "Dalton is a great place, but there can't be a zero-tolerance bullying policy if people aren't willing to conform a little. It's about being part of the team."

"I've never been very good at that," Kurt admitted, sensing Blaine's annoyance with him.

"You'll figure it out," Blaine said coldly. "Besides, you already took the first step by joining the Warblers. Anyone who goes to this school and can sing is expected to. You'll do all right, Kurt Hummel. Just, don't try do hard next time."

There were about a hundred thousand things Kurt could say to that, but it wasn't necessary to say any of them. Blaine didn't want to hear them, and they wouldn't make a difference.

"I'm sorry." After all, Blaine had staked his reputation to get Kurt the audition, and while he hadn't exactly _blown_ it, the Warbler council probably wasn't looking too fondly on his roommate at the moment.

"I know it's gonna take some getting used to, but you'll fit in soon enough. I promise." Blaine gave him a quick smile before turning back to his homework.

* * *

**A/N: Yay! This may be the first chapter that I've posted on time. So, my keyboard iss acting wonky, and you guys are subsequently saved my normal amount of author's notes.**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'_Don't You Worry Child' _by Swedish House Mafia feat. John Martin  
'_Defying Gravity_' from _Wicked_ (mentioned)  
'_I'm Yours_' by Jason Mraz (mentioned)  
'_If I Ain't Got You_' by Alicia Keys

**Reviews are Love.**


	4. The Third Impression

**The Lima Bean, 1327 Bellefontaine Avenue, Lima, OH 9:23:14  
**Blaine's Wednesday mornings were full of free periods, and since Kurt had the exact same schedule (which Blaine _still_ found a little creepy), Kurt was in the same position. Blaine had woken up at six as usual, and since Kurt was accustomed to the same schedule, he was up at the same time.

Blaine had hesitantly invited Kurt out to coffee with him, and Kurt was surprised that they got on the highway once they pulled out of Westerville. Blaine explained that the best coffee in the state was two hours away, but Kurt had still been shocked when they pulled off the turnpike at the _Lima _exit. He never could escape the accursed place. Blaine said he loved The Lima Bean, and Kurt couldn't argue that they had outstanding coffee, but unfortunately they also tended to have very unhappy people that he knew. Kurt made a small map of the floor plan of The Lima Bean (as well as he knew it) on his mobile command center just so he knew here the best areas were to sit, and where to avoid. Stay away from the glass front, obviously.

Kurt had been in the passenger seat for the trip, but that didn't mean he wasn't watching carefully. Blaine wasn't the best driver, and Kurt was constantly checking to make sure that he would keep them alive. That fact only made him realize that one car had been three cars away from them for the entire trip. A 2013 Chevy Malibu 2LTZ, in topaz, with nineteen inch wheels. It would have been following perfectly subtly if Kurt hadn't been watching.

When Blaine and Kurt reached The Lima Bean, the Malibu was nowhere in sight, but Kurt knew it would be back, and so he hurried Blaine into the coffee shop. "Grande nonfat mocha and a medium drip for my friend," he said automatically, and then realized his blunder.

"How do you know my coffee order?"

"Lucky guess," Kurt lied as they waited near the pick-up station. Kurt put his back to the wall and took a quick glance over the parking lot. Two spaces from the door, pulled in between two much larger SUVs, Kurt could see a hint of metallic blue. His eyes snapped into the doorway, and he quickly looked down as Dustin Goolsby walked in. Bloody hell. "Hey, Blaine."

"Yeah?" Blaine was reading the coffee menu.

"I have to make a quick phone call." Kurt couldn't see any way around it, but he could certainly make sure that Blaine was out of Dustin's reach. "Call me if our coffees come."

"Okay." Kurt took another quick glance and was relieved that Dustin had taken a seat in the corner of the restaurant cut off by the wall. It was an easily defensible position, which was what he was looking for, but it also meant Blaine was out of his line of view.

Kurt ducked into the hallway, keeping his eye on Blaine and hoping that Dustin thought he had beat them there. "Agent Lopez," he whispered into his earpiece and his cell phone rang.

"_Aren't you supposed to be in class_?" were the first words he heard over the line.

"We have a free period, Blaine and I are out for coffee, haven't you been _watching_ us?" Kurt asked, a little annoyed that they hadn't been paying attention.

"_Jesus, newbie, are you _off-campus_? Are you out of your mind? There's a reason Blaine goes to Dalton Academy, and it's not because he can afford it. Listen _closely. _Get Blaine back to campus as soon as possible, and I won't have to tell the director about your idiocy_."

"Dustin Goolsby's here," Kurt said, and he didn't understand a word of the Spanish that came over the phone line. "Agent Lopez, I need help, not a lesson in Spanish cussing."

"_How stupid can you possibly be_?" Kurt let the senior agent rant at him in Spanglish as a thought occurred to him. He dug into his messenger bag and pulled out the only helpful gadget he had in there. Looking over Goolsby with the X-Ray sunglasses, he noticed one, two, three... okay, he could stop counting now. Goolsby was definitely armed.

"He's armed. Is he here to kill me?" Thankfully, that made Agent Lopez stop ranting.

"_Of course not. Just because he _will _kill children, doesn't mean he wants to, and he definitely can't reveal who he is in front of Blaine. Just, do your best to act normal and get Blaine out of there without revealing too much about yourself he could use to identify you later. I don't suppose you have any form of disguise?_"

"No. Plus, Blaine would find it suspicious... and Blaine knows him," Kurt remembered. "What do I do if he tries to introduce us?"

"_Improvise. Now, you've left your charge alone for far too long. Go keep an eye on him._" Agent Lopez, he had a feeling was about to say something else, but Blaine cut her off.

"Kurt, oh, sorry. Um, the coffee's are here." Thankfully, Blaine decided to duck into the hallway instead of yell and proclaim their presence. Perhaps that wasn't Kurt's best plan.

"Thanks," Kurt said as Blaine handed him the coffee, his mind working quickly. The queue of The Lima Bean ran almost exactly through the middle of the restaurant, and the people were their best protection from Goolsby. Unfortunately, they weren't exactly _subtle_ in their Dalton uniforms, but people provided obstacles in Goolsby's almost omniscient line of sight. On the opposite side of the restaurant there was a coffee station, which Blaine always stopped at, and then... there was always the hallway. The hallway in The Lima Bean led to the store next to it (they had formed some sort of partnership in an attempt to increase business), and it was a closed-in hallway. There were tables inside the 'L' of the hallway, and if they could get into the corner, they would be far enough away from the glass _and_ invisible to Goolsby. Perfect.

"Come on." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand, ignoring for now exactly what he might think that meant, and headed out of the hallway, sticking close to the wall and practically pulling Blaine through the crowd of people at the front of the line. He felt like he could breathe again when there was a dense line of people between them and the man hunting them.

"In a hurry much?" Blaine laughed as he headed for the coffee station, taking his sweet time.

"I just want to make sure we get a good table," Kurt lied, keeping his back to the coffee station so that Goolsby was in his line of sight but Blaine was in his peripherals.

"Relax, we beat the crowd this morning. Barely, but we did." Blaine seemed perfectly relaxed, but Kurt couldn't help being on edge, tapping his fingers on the counter. At least the crowd had arrived. "It's kind of nice to be out of Dalton, isn't it?"

"Lovely," Kurt said tightly.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine. Are you done?" Kurt answered quickly, and when Blaine nodded, Kurt led the way, keeping as many people between them and Goolsby as possible. Thankfully, the pillars that The Lima Bean used to keep the line contained gave them brief breaks from Goolsby's sight line. They were near the end of the line before Kurt ducked behind the hallway, and suddenly a wall sat between them and Blaine's father's crazy associate.

"Actually, you're right, this is cozy." Blaine said, taking a seat against the back wall. It was farther in the open then Kurt really wanted, but at least it was away from Goolsby.

"Isn't it?" he asked tightly as he texted Agent Lopez under the table.

To: Agent Lopez  
'_Is there anyway I can have Goolsby's location? If he moves over to this side of the cafe, we're pretty much done for_.'

From: Agent Lopez  
**'Got ya.'**

Kurt's high-tech phone started beeping softy, and soon enough, a tag appeared on his GPS module "GOOLSBY."

From: Agent Lopez  
**'I noticed on your quick X-Ray scan (nice work, by the way) that he has a heat seeker on one of his guns. It makes his shots more dangerous because it essentially gives him night vision for heat, but it's also track-able technology.'**

To: Agent Lopez  
'_Thank you_... _This *so* isn't Agent Lopez, is it?_'

From: Agent Lopez  
'**It's Puck, Santana gave me her phone when she went into check on you**.'

To: Agent Lopez

'_When she did __WHAT!?_'

Kurt turned his head and groaned. Agent Lopez, coffee-less and completely conspicuous, was sitting at one of the tables up against the glass, and when Kurt caught her eye, she winked at him. Kurt groaned. Exactly what he needed. When had they even gotten there?

"You all right?" Blaine asked, and Kurt realized he had been neglecting his charge.

"Family troubles, I'm fine," Kurt excused quickly, and he was certainly getting better at thinking on his feet. Agent Lopez was definitely in Goolsby's line of sight, and that was more worrying than anything. He had at least six guns on his torso. Thankfully, he hadn't moved an inch.

"Anything I can help with?" Blaine asked with a charming smile. Maybe he should stop worrying about Agent Lopez, she was better trained than he was to begin with and she'd had years of field experience. Or so he assumed.

"Not unless you can make my brother less annoying," Kurt replied, making up a story in his head in case Blaine started asking. Finn was being a pain about the fact that he had been sent to Dalton (which was the real part), because he had wanted to go to Dalton for years, and they could never find the money until Kurt was being tormented at school and he had more opportunities for scholarships than Finn did with his lackluster grades. Perfect. His own little liar's palace.

"You know, it's weird, but I could have _sworn_ that I saw one of my father's associates sitting on the opposite side of this place." Uh-oh. "There's no reason he should be in Lima though." Code red. Agent Lopez was staring at them, and she was _definitely_ still tapped into Kurt's microphone.

"Let's not worry about it," Kurt said, and he was _so_ going to get yelled at for this later, but he placed his hand over Blaine's free one on the table and Blaine's eyes widened a little.

"So, I was wondering-"

"Blaine-" Kurt started to cut Blaine off, but Blaine cut him off in return.

"I'm not asking you out," Blaine stopped him, and Kurt really didn't have anything to say to that. "It's kind of clear when someone isn't interested in me-"

"Blaine, it's not that," Kurt objected before he could think about it. "I mean, it's not that you're not... it's just..." What the hell could he say? 'You're extremely hot and I would love to go out with you, or _make _out with you, but I'm a federal agent in charge of finding out about your father from you and stopping the plans of the company he's working for, so we're really not romantic options for one another?' Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over very well.

"It doesn't matter," Blaine said, withdrawing his hand. "The point is, I'm _not_ asking you out. I was just wondering if you wanted to come to the Anderson Halloween bash? It's a yearly thing my parents throw, though I usually end up hosting it because my mother spends most of her time split between Los Angeles and New York and my father's kind of an introvert. The point is, it's _not_ a date. Most of the Warblers and a good chunk of Dalton in general will be there, along with a bunch of my father's stuffed shirt friends, but I thought it would be a good chance for you to get more associated with people at Dalton. It's kind of short notice, since it's this weekend, but-"

"I'd love to," Kurt said, breaking into Blaine's rant, and when he looked over at Agent Lopez (who had pulled a laptop out of somewhere and seemed, to the casual observer, to be taking advantage of the free wi-fi), she gave him a thumbs up.

"Great." Blaine checked his watch. "We should probably head back to Dalton for lunch, considering we _do_ have classes this afternoon."

Kurt glanced at his GPS, and it showed Goolsby still in the same spot, but when he looked at Agent Lopez, she gave him the go ahead. "Sure," he said hesitantly, and as they stood up, Agent Lopez began putting her things away. Just as they exited their little cove and passed her, she stepped out. For a horrible moment Kurt worried Agent Lopez was going to approach him, but instead she bumped into him with a hurried apology, and as their hands brushed, she passed something over. His earpiece. Great.

"Excuse me," she said absentmindedly, headed for the coffee line, which had thinned out. Kurt took a glance across the cafe, but Goolsby was definitely gone. Time for more quick thinking, because there had to be a reason that Kurt's GPS was convinced he was still there.

"Where did you think you saw your dad's friend?" Kurt said, purposefully acting as though he had forgotten Blaine's description of Goolsby as creepy and unfriendly. He was getting better at this.

"Over there." Blaine just pointed, but Kurt headed that way. Once they reached the approximate location the GPS had placed Goolsby, Kurt looked around quickly. The trash can. Sitting on the top was one of Goolsby's guns, definitely the one with the heat seeker, with a note on top. Kurt was far away, but it clearly read 'Nice try, FBI' in large, conspicuous letters. Thankfully, Blaine hadn't followed him all the way. Great. At least he thought they were the damn FBI.

**Girard Building, Dalton Academy, 94 Warbler Lane, Westerville, OH 14:01:16  
**"Is it just me, or did today take _forever_?" Blaine complained as they walked out of their last class of the day, which was their Precalculus test. "How do you think you did on that test?"

"We'll have to see," Kurt hedged, because he had absolutely no idea what any of the questions had meant, so it would be interesting to see how the CIA handled it. They certainly wouldn't let him get academically suspended from Dalton, and failing a test would put him on academic detention, which would take time away from Blaine.

"I think I did all right," Blaine continued, oblivious to the fact that Kurt was distracted. He was due to be at headquarters at some point for a progress report and further briefing on exactly how the agency wanted the annual Anderson Halloween Bash to go as far as national security went. "I hate imaginary numbers though. They're not real, so I should be able imagine them as anything I want." Blaine laughed and Kurt joined in automatically. "At least we don't have rehearsal today, right?"

"Kurt, maybe I borrow you?" Wes asked as he passed them in the opposite direction, grabbing his shoulder turning him around and really not giving him all that much of a choice in the matter.

"Later, Kurt," Blaine called out as he continued talking, sounding a little bit nervous. Well, it was clear Wes didn't like him very much.

"I know, in case you were wondering," he said as he led Kurt... somewhere. "I had to say no because, well, that's what was expected of me, but I'm the CIA's connection to the student body here on a regular basis. I'm how they found Blaine, and how they found out he's gay. Wesley Montgomery, Junior Snitch." Kurt had heard of the Snitches. They were the true undercover agents, the ones who gave up their lives entirely to be someone else and be placed in either high-information or high-risk situations. They became entirely new people, remade as thoroughly as people placed in witness protection. How did one become a _Junior_ Snitch? "Agents Lopez, Puckerman, and Evans are waiting for you in the parking lot. Don't be tardy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go take care of that Pre-calc test for you."

Well, that explained why Wes hated him. He was the one in charge of picking up Kurt's Dalton-related messes, but Kurt would get all the glory if this operation went well, and he would still be a Junior Snitch submerged in a high school he probably hated attending. Snitches hated Agents. At least he had David, or did he?

"Wes," he called out, and the Head Warbler paused for a moment, not turning to face Kurt.

"Yes?"

"Are you and David really together?" Wes sighed, turning to face him at that point.

"Yes, and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell the agency. I'm not supposed to become involved romantically, but... I'm in love." It was the first crack Kurt had seen in Wes' armor, and it made what he had to say next all the worse.

"I'm mic'd."

"Of course you are," Wes said with another sigh, turning around anyway and heading into the Precalculus room Kurt had just come from with no further comment.

"Always nice to see your late ass," Agent Lopez said semi-cheerily as Kurt approached the not-at-all subtle surveillance van.

"Lovely to see you too, Agent Lopez."

"At least I'm not taking you to get yelled at this time." Agent Lopez got in the front of the van, but Kurt headed for the back. He didn't particularly feel like dealing with her at the moment. She could be quite... abrasive.

"Hey, guys," Kurt said as he opened the back and hoped in. It was a lot cleaner now than it had been when Kurt had first been introduced to the two agents who were camped out in there. Less fast food containers anyway.

"'Sup little man?" Puck asked, offering Kurt a fist bump, which he accepted.

"Hey, Agent Hummel," Agent Evans said, and Kurt could see Goolsby frozen on the screen.

"Ignore him," Puck said, dismissing his co-worker. "He's just annoyed because he can't figure out how Goolsby knew we were tracking him. We're supposed to be the best, but Goolsby outsmarted us at The Lima Bean, and we could have lost you if he had been on the hunt." Kurt tried not to worry about that too much.

"How did you guys even get there so fast? We were two hours away."

"We're not actually parked on campus all day, we would lose our minds," Puck answered with a laugh as the van began to move, headed for the headquarters in downtown Columbus. "We were parked about twenty minutes north of Dayton when Santana called you, and she made us start driving as soon as her phone registered your coordinates. Plus, we can speed. We're the government." Puck grinned.

"There's no way he could have known," Sam muttered to himself.

"Sam, shut it," Puck said with a roll of his eyes. "So, it seems that you're doing much better without that frickin' earpiece. Suck it, Satan!" he yelled, but Santana probably couldn't hear him in the closed-off front.

"She gave it back to me," Kurt said, turning so that they could see it in his ear. "It's not very subtle," but no one spent a lot of time looking at his ear.

"Of course she did," Puck said, disgusted.

"They really need to re-design that thing," Sam commented.

"Sorry about the run-in with Goolsby, we clearly need to keep a better eye on you, and them. Especially them." Puck slapped one of the monitors playfully, earning himself a disapproving look from Sam.

"If it makes you feel any better, Goolsby thinks we're the FBI." All three agents cracked up laughing.

**CIA Headquarters, Downtown Columbus, Columbus, OH 16:28:17  
**Instead of being ushered to mission control, Kurt was pushed past the circular table (which was being used for something else, judging by the pictures of the President of the French Republic being shown in hologram form), and Agent Lopez led him up a set of stairs on the opposite side of the entrance, into a rather plush and extremely large office, which must have belonged to the director.

"Kurt Hummel, how's my favorite junior agent?" Director Schuester asked pleasantly, and Agent Berry nodded at him in encouragement.

"Fine?" Kurt hedged, wondering why the director was asking him that.

"And I assume you have secured an invitation to the annual Anderson Halloween Bash?" Agent Berry asked as she led Agent Lopez out of the room. Why was she making Agent Lopez leave?

"Earlier today," Kurt confirmed, and the director flashed him a brilliant smile.

"So let's talk about the party." He turned in his desk chair and a screen unfurled from the ceiling, Agent Berry starting the projector in the back of the room with a smile at Kurt. "This is a virtual map of the Anderson family complex. It will be sent in hologram form to your mobile command center." Two rooms deep in the bowls of the house glowed red. "Those are Doctor Anderson's laboratories. Your job during this party is to get into those laboratories and observe everything there is to see. Any conversation you may overhear between the doctor and commissioners would be helpful as well." The beach and the ballroom near the beach glowed. "This is where the party will be held, the area of the complex that the guests are allowed to roam free in. There will be guards, and security cameras, especially around the laboratories. You will pass through the gates to the Anderson Estates as an invited guest, and we hope you will exit them in the same way."

"We have theorized, based on the minimal conversations we have been able to eavesdrop on," it must not be easy to eavesdrop on the communications of a communications and security company, "that Sue Sylvester and Dustin Goolsby will be present at the party, and have planned a metter with Doctor Anderson. Dustin Goolsby may know your face, so you will have to be careful. The two most important instructions we have for you are: don't get caught, and don't make _anyone_ involved in the scheme suspicious, including Blaine."

"Doctor Morrison will give you any gadgets you think you will need," Director Schuester said as Agent Berry turned off the short slide show, and that seemed to be a dismissal.

"Director," Kurt said as Agent Berry took his arm to lead him out, and he ignored her as she tugged him away.

"Yes, Agent Hummel?"

"Will Junior Snitch Wesley Montgomery be punished?"

"I can't think of anything for which to punish him."

"Sir-"

"It's human nature to fall in love, Agent Hummel, if that answers your question." The director didn't seem inclined to say anything else.

"Agent Lopez is being given her instructions by Assistant Director Monteith," Agent Berry explained as she led him out. "Even Agents Puckerman and Evans are being given specific instructions. This is a very important operation, and it makes everyone nervous that we're forced to send someone so green in because of the age of the other constituents." Agent Berry seemed formal, but kind.

"Out of curiosity, what exactly is Agent Puckerman's full name?"

"Agent Noah Puckerman," Agent Berry said a little wistfully, "but he prefers Puck for short. Even Agent Puck. I understand how that could be confusing, considering you haven't had any sort of proper initiation, or even introductions to your team."

"_My_ team?" Kurt repeated.

"Agents Lopez, Puckerman, and Evans," Agent Berry explained. "I don't know what Agent Lopez has told you, but you're technically in charge of the operation." The word 'handler,' something Agent Lopez used to describe herself quite frequently, didn't exactly fit in with that image of their 'team.'

"I didn't know that."

"Which is exactly why you make everyone nervous," Agent Berry said as she led him through winding corridors. Somehow, they ended up going through a side door into what Kurt was mentally referring to as the Gadgets Laboratory, and Kurt _really_ needed to learn his way around the headquarters.

"Back again, I see," said the crazy gadget doctor (Kurt had to guess with was Doctor Morrison, though he more deserved the title Doctor Madman). "Here's what I have for you, our little wet-behind-the-ears priority." Doctor Morrison handed him a silver ball.

"A magic eight ball?"

"No. Not even close," Doctor Morrison said disapprovingly. "This is a smoke detector."

"What Doctor Morrison means by that," Agent Berry added as Kurt stared at the sphere in confusion, trying to associate it with what he expected of a smoke detector, "is the sphere diffuses a smoke into the air that makes lasers, cameras, and motion detectors react. It'll help reveal anything hidden that's trying to find you. The smaller silver balls," Agent Berry shook a bag with several inside them, "are smoke bombs, in case a getaway is necessary." Doctor Morrison looked ridiculously proud of himself, and he handed Kurt a small silver cylinder.

"Silly string?" Kurt guessed.

"Excellent! Silly Ladderz is what we've been calling it," Doctor Morrison admitted, and somehow the 'z' was obvious in his speech, "but essentially. It's a carbon-based compound, like silly string, only super-strong, strong enough to hold an above average human, and it comes out in a sideways grid pattern."

"So, a silly string ladder?"

"Pretty much, but it'll get you anywhere, and it's lightweight. There's enough in that bottle to get you to the top of the Empire State Building without using a single stair." Kurt tucked both things in a backpack Agent Berry produced for him.

"This is a scope cam," Doctor Morrison handed Kurt what looked like a pair of tightly-coiled headphones. "It has an audio component too." He handed Kurt a pair of gloves. "Spidy Gloves. I'm going to assume those are self-explanatory. There are some for the soles of your shoes too." Doctor Morrison handed Kurt a cell phone case. "This is a Bouncer."

"It's for your mobile command center," Agent Berry added helpfully. "It will keep it from being injured by the effect of anything Doctor Anderson may have in his laboratory."

"This is a Water Peeper." Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Doctor Morrison handed him a silver square about the size of his pinky nail.

"If you place this against one of Doctor Anderson's tanks," Agent Berry began to explain," it will drill a hole, place plastic sheeting to prevent water from escaping, and capture anything that isn't a hydrogen or oxygen molecule."

"You want me to _catch_ the antineutrinos?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"If you have time," she answered, ignoring his tone. "It will also seal up the tank as it leaves. All you have to do is give it time to work. It's automatic, and it will store the antineutrinos inside of itself. However, it may not exactly be quiet. The antineutrinos may react negatively when exposed to all of the compounds of the atmosphere, especially in a scientific laboratory. The air in the laboratory will have traces of the chemicals he uses to test the neutrinos, which are _intended _to cause a reaction. Be careful," Agent Berry warned.

"It uses the same technology as the stairs do," Doctor Morrison added. "This is a laser cutter, pocket size."

"It looks like lipstick."

"That's because we stole it from the Disney TV show Kim Possible," Doctor Morrison said with no shame. "Last, but not least, this is a Disabler. Unfortunately, it has no cool name, but all you need to do is get it attached to a security camera, and it'll knock out any cameras connected through a network without letting the guards know that it's been breached."

"I have one question."

"Of course you do," Doctor Morrison said cheerily.

"Aren't you guys going to _arm_ me?" Agent Berry looked at him in surprise.

"The security guards for the party would find any weapon we gave you immediately... and you're a sixteen-year-old child."

"Everyone I'm fighting has weapons. Dustin Goolsby has six, and that's just on his torso." Agent Berry sighed.

"You'll be wearing a vest under your suit, but that's all the protection we can give you. In any case, a fire fight is the last thing that we want." Agent Berry started to walk towards the exit.

"It's the last thing I want too, but shouldn't I at least be prepared?"

"Come along, Agent Hummel." That was a 'no' then.

* * *

**A/N: As usual, I have to apologize that this chapter is not only late, but also mostly set up. The cool chapters are the next few :)**


	5. The Party

**Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 13:47:52  
**The Anderson residence was gorgeous and huge, which was exactly what Kurt had been expecting. The agency hadn't been able to get a full floor plan, because apparently the architect that designed it was dead and all the copies rested with Doctor Anderson, but they had given him an idea of what to expect. He was kind of knocked off his feet by the grandeur, however. He knew kids at Dalton were well off (it _was_ a preparatory school), but this was... wow. Kurt could see almost two miles of well-decorated driveway, but he had to past the first test, which was the gates. Huge, wrought-iron, with a golden 'A', and four security guards. A quick check with Kurt's X-Ray sunglasses confirmed that they were all armed with at least two guns. Also, most of them preferred boxer-briefs. When had Agent Lopez turned off the parental control?

"_You're welcome_," Agent Puck said through his earpiece (which was now disguised as a headphone, thanks to Sam's ingenuity and apparent mechanical skills), and Kurt chuckled in response.

"You got a bag?"

"In the trunk," Kurt lied. His bag was tucked firmly under his seat, because he couldn't actually allow them to go through it. He had to rely on his instinct that these people were too lazy to actually bother checking the trunk.

"Nice wheels," another guard added, eying Kurt's rims.

"Thanks."

"You're free to go," the first guard said. Apparently, he had taken a good look at Kurt and decided he was fairly harmless. What an idiot.

It was about two and a half miles of extremely-well-decorated driveway, he re-evaluated by the time he reached the house. It was still light, only about two on Saturday afternoon, but Kurt had a feeling when the sun went down, the house would look absolutely haunting. It was old in a classy way, all stone and smooth-wood paneling. The outside look of the house contrasted wildly with the developing technology Kurt knew was inside.

The party was mostly out on the lawn, and it was covered in all sorts of tacky Halloween decorations, skeletons and pumpkins and fake graves galore. Not very many people were dressed in costumes, most preferring the black tie attire which Blaine had recommended to Kurt on Thursday. Kurt thankfully got the opportunity to park his car himself (although there _was_ a very helpful, if very bored-looking valet waiting at the end of the driveway), and he stuffed his pockets and suit with all of his gadgets, placing the Bouncer on his phone and storing the Spidy Feet in the compartments of his specially designed shoes. Since spying in a tuxedo was not as easy as James Bond made it look, Kurt was wearing a black and gray stealth suit underneath his name-brand tux, and he also had on the bulletproof vest Agent Berry had insisted on. It was all rip-away clothing. He put on his watch and his sunglasses, storing his Spidy Gloves in his waistband. He made sure to grab the present the agency had insisted he give Blaine. This was going to be an interesting party.

Blaine's house was right on the waterfront. Kurt had absolutely no idea what waterfront it was, but either way it gave the house extra elegance. No one was on the beach, presumably because the water was cold, but the scenery was beautiful.

Kurt began scanning for Blaine, also keeping an eye out for Dustin Goolsby, who was almost guaranteed to be at the party. Sue Sylvester would be the less conspicuous one, as she had no need to enter through the party area, but Dustin Goolsby still thought the FBI was on their tail.

Kurt, a highly-trained field agent, burst out laughing when he saw Blaine. Although he had suggested black tie to almost everyone he had invited, Blaine was wearing a costume, and seemed to be attempting a Marlon Brando look. It fit with the amount of gel he wore on a regular basis, but the leather jacket was just all wrong.

"Laugh it up, Hummel, but I look _good_," Blaine said with a grin, doing a little twirl to show off his outfit.

"No, _I _look good," Kurt argued, smiling in return. He was wearing black-tie, as Blaine had suggested, and since the government had dressed him, his tuxedo was custom-designed and perfectly fitted.

"You do," Blaine agreed, and Kurt tried hard not to blush when Blaine gave him the up-and-down. His expression suggested he approved. "You look like you're here to pick me up for prom." If only.

"Isn't this what you meant by black tie?" Kurt asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of how dressed up he was.

"Most people just wear suits, but..." Blaine shrugged. "You look like James Bond." Even though it was eerily similar to what Kurt had thought to himself earlier, it still kind of made him nervous. Plus, there was definitely a possibility that his cover was blown, but it was a risk everyone had to take at this point.

"Which one?" he asked, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

"George Lazenby with the hair, and Timothy Dalton with the eyes," Blaine replied, and suddenly he was looking directly into Kurt's eyes, and he was very, _very_ close.

"I... I brought you something."

"This is a Halloween party," Blaine replied, his lips twitching.

"Really?" Blaine looked at him in surprise. "I thought you just dressed like that in your spare time." Blaine cracked up laughing.

"Well, if I'm secretly Marlon Brando and you're secretly James Bond, there's really nothing we can't do." Blaine was eyeing the box in Kurt's hand nonetheless, so Kurt handed it to him, and Blaine ripped open the blue paper on the box eagerly. "You really are weird. Jonathan Keates?" Blaine asked in surprise as he pulled out 'Soon to Be a Major Motion Picture.' "How did you know?"

"He's one of my favorite authors," Kurt lied, hoping he wasn't about to be quizzed on the man, because he knew absolutely nothing about Keates. Or much about Keats, for that matter.

"Mine too," Blaine said with a warm smile, pulling out the box within the box, a think, black jewelry case. "Jewelry?"

"I think you'll like it," Kurt said honestly, because it had been hand-picked by Wes, who was apparently one of Blaine's best friends, and a very good Junior Snitch.

"I... wow," Blaine said. The box held a necklace which was a simple guitar pick on a silver chain. The guitar pick was something special. Wes had explained to him that Blaine, while not a big rock fan, secretly loved Pink Floyd. The pick was black, with a silver mark of the band's name on it, and was apparently a collectable. "This is awesome! Where did you get it?"

"Flee market," Kurt said, lying through his teeth again.

"Cool." Of course, the guitar pick had it's other uses, including the fact that within the space of the 'D' in Pink Floyd, there was a small chip that could be used to locate Blaine at any time. Blaine was doing his best to clip it around his neck, but didn't seem to be having much luck doing so blind.

"Here, let me." Okay, this was a bad idea, Kurt mused as Blaine turned around, and not just because Blaine had a rather nice butt. Blaine drew in a sharp breath when Kurt's fingers brushed the back of his neck, and they were both completely still for a moment after Kurt had clipped it, until Blaine turned back around.

"I think this just completes the look," Blaine commented, looking down. "Though Pink Floyd was technically futuristic to Marlon Brando."

"Semantics."

* * *

**Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 14:28:33  
**Blaine was an excellent party host, Kurt had decided as he sat on the beach observing his charge. Blaine was nice to everyone, even people he didn't appear to know, and he kept hopping into various dying conversations in order to keep them alive. He was funny, charming, charismatic, and definitely seemed enjoyable to be around. If only he wasn't Kurt's assignment, he would definitely be meeting Burt Hummel very shortly.

"You look bored," Wes said with a sigh as he sat down next to Kurt in a lawn chair. David seemed just as at home at Blaine's house as Blaine was, and he was fetching drinks and playing games and acting like it was his party rather than the Anderson's.

"I'm not. I'm... absorbed." Kurt was choosing his words carefully around the Snitch he didn't really know.

"So the agency decided not to comment?" Wes asked, taking a sip of what looked and smelled like beer. Technically, Wes was underage, and shouldn't be drinking on assignment, but Kurt let it slide. Wes didn't have much to do tonight that he needed quick wits for. He just had to keep up his everyday charade.

"I think the Director sympathized," Kurt replied, and Wes nodded.

"He's had his own share of romance issues in the past few months. Apparently he doesn't want to be the cause of anyone else's." That made Kurt curious.

"Do you know what went on between Agents Puckerman and Lopez?" Kurt asked, and some of Wes' beer came out his nose he started laughing so quickly.

"Dear God, you really are new. Everyone knows that Puck and Santana have been so weirdly on-again-off-again for... it has to be ten years at this point. It's a 'will they? won't they?' situation right off a sit-com, and the director took Puck off the field in an attempt to separate them. It didn't actually work when Puck proved to be adaptable, and now they're back on the same team." Kurt stared at him in confusion. "Yours," Wes explained with a roll of his eyes.

"Right." Kurt's mobile command center beeped. He pressed the side button to view the message, but all he saw was a GPS map of the Anderson residence. "What the..." Then he saw it. Blaine's name was on there, beeping steadily about twenty feet from Kurt. Kurt took a quick look up to confirm that Blaine was still within sight, running the roulette table, and then looked back. Two new dots were on his map, marked SS and DG. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what was going on. Stheno had arrived at the party. "I have to go to Blaine," he said, not bothering to explain what was going on to Wes. He was a Snitch, he didn't really need to know.

"Hey," Blaine said brightly as Kurt approached him at the roulette table. "Want to play a few numbers?" he asked, offering Kurt some chips.

"I'm good," Kurt replied, quickly scanning the area and taking some time to observe the scenery for exit routes. There was an wide, intricate path mostly composed of white rose petals leading from the edge of the beach into the house, but most of the party guests were clustered around the edges at various casino games or childish activities. Many of the upper-class guests of Blaine's father were in the ball room, which Kurt had yet to visit because Blaine was on the opposite side of the party. Sue Sylvester was in there, probably socializing and picking out new targets for corporate takeovers. Dustin Goolsby was on the other side of the path, talking to the very few adults that were outside. It was mostly Dalton boys who were there for Blaine and high-class children that had been dragged along by their parents. There was next-to-no cover, the ground was flat and open, and they were far from Blaine's house. Awesome. Very defensible. "Your house is beautiful."

"Do you want a tour?" Blaine asked, and it seemed like an opportunity to be seized. "Technically party guests aren't supposed to be inside the house except for the ballroom, but I seriously doubt you're going to rob me or be looking for my father's secrets." Blaine grinned at him, and Kurt returned the smile, but oh how wrong Blaine was.

"I would love one." Kurt took Blaine's hand, trying to see it as a strategic move rather than an action that made his heart beat quicken. If Stheno even knew about Blaine's preferences, which was a big if, they would make the assumption no agent would be stupid enough to get romantically involved with a target with homophobic parents. If Stheno didn't know, they would focus more on the 'what' than the 'who.' It made perfect sense, in theory.

Blaine clearly approved, tightening his grip on Kurt's hand as he led him towards the house. They stayed off the beaten path, for which Kurt was thankful, weaving through the masses of high school boys and staying mostly out of Dustin Goolsby's line of sight. Kurt, following Blaine and thus invisible to him, had pulled out his mobile command center and was keeping a careful eye on both of the Stheno executives. Sue Sylvester had been wandering around in the ballroom to socialize, but Dustin Goolsby had stayed put. Maybe he was waiting for something, especially since he was so close to the driveway. A delivery, perhaps? Kurt made a mental note.

Kurt caught his first glimpse of Sue Sylvester as he walked into the ballroom of Blaine's house, and he was more than ready to admit that she was terrifying. Her expression was cold, the lines on her face harsh, as if they had been chiseled by a shaky hand into stone. She was Medusa's victim, not her sister. She was across the room, and as someone who was clearly a professional, she didn't even blink as Blaine and Kurt walked into the room, but Kurt noticed her earpiece. She had to know they were there. She didn't look over though, so Kurt was in the clear as much as possible.

"Where do you want to start?" Blaine asked, and they were kind of in the middle of the ballroom.

"I don't care," Kurt answered, because he knew there was no way that Blaine would show him his father's labs, and he was only accepting the tour to learn escape routes and keep Blaine away from the Stheno executives as much as possible. A quick look around confirmed that Sue Sylvester still wasn't looking their way, but Dustin Goolsby was visible from the doorway. He was coming into the ballroom. "Let's go in here," Kurt said, picking a random door, hauling it open and dragging Blaine in before he looked to see what the room was.

"This is a closet," Blaine objected as Kurt closed the door behind them. Kurt's eyes adjusted quickly from the bright lights of the ballroom (which was absolutely stunning, with perfectly waxed wooden floors, a grand piano in the corner, high ceilings with dangling crystal chandeliers, and walls with pillars carefully carved. It was the picture of wealth and elegance) to the dull light from the tiny window in the closet. There was that, plus the fact that the closet was small and cramped, Blaine and Kurt pushed together by the shelves on the wall.

"Whoops," Kurt said, clearly having chosen the wrong door, but too relieved that they had gotten out of the ballroom before Dustin Goolsby had entered to really care that they were now in a rather... awkward position. A quick look at his phone showed Dustin Goolsby still in the ballroom. Fuck. Improvisation time. "Anyway to get into the house from here?"

"No... unless you want to go through the air duct system?" Blaine asked, and Kurt was about ninety percent sure he was kidding. However, the fact that there was an air duct system was useful knowledge. He was really tempted to take Blaine up on that offer, but they would eventually have to go outside and face the Stheno executives. One other option then.

"You really shouldn't wear that much gel," Kurt said, pretending that he was wiping away the thick coat of gel, while really mussing Blaine's hair and trying to ignore the gunk his hand was now covered in. "Your hair must get really dry."

"You have no idea what my hair looks like without it," Blaine said with a laugh, but he obviously hadn't figured out what Kurt was doing.

"Fair enough," Kurt said once Blaine's hair looked reasonably messy, wiping off the gel very obviously on his pants. "Come on, we should go outside. After you," he said, holding the door for Blaine. As Blaine left, Kurt loosened his tie, bit his lips, and mussed up his own hair.

When they walked out of the closet, they were probably the perfect picture of debauchery, and while Dustin Goolsby's eyes snapped right to Blaine, they skated right over Kurt. Perfect. "Let's go upstairs," Blaine said, which were unintentionally (on his part) the perfect words to go with the picture Kurt had painted.

"I think you should lead the way this time," Kurt said, making Blaine laugh.

* * *

**Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 14:46:53  
**"How is your house even more stunning inside?" Kurt asked as Blaine led him out of the ballroom and into what was clearly a formal dining room. It looked very similar to the ballroom, but it was smaller, with only one chandelier, and the room was dominated by a gigantic, dark wood table surrounded by chairs that matched in elegance and looked horribly uncomfortable.

"Westerville is full of old, expensive, ornately decorated mansions," Blaine said with a shrug. "Whatever it is that my father actually does to earn money with science, he obviously makes a lot of it. We were actually pretty poor when I was young." Well, that was helpful. How long had Dr. Anderson been partnered with Stheno?

"When did that change?" Kurt asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"About two years ago," Blaine answered. "I used to go to public high school, but the money... made things easier." Blaine didn't elaborate, and Kurt didn't ask. "This house is really a little bit too big, though."

"What do you mean?" Kurt had to ask. He was just too curious.

"My father spends most of his time in the laboratory, my brother lives in California, and my mother... well, I don't wanna talk about her." Kurt could definitely understand that. "This house is just a little big for me, considering I'm the only person who ever spends any real time in it." Blaine hadn't reached to talk Kurt's hand when they walked into the house; Kurt was the one who reached for him this time. It looked like he needed the comfort.

"I was wondering how much of this house you actually use," Kurt said, fishing for information again.

"A lot of the house is empty." Blaine hadn't let go of Kurt's hand, but he was leading Kurt out of the dining room. "Most of the east wing is, except that's where the stairs to my father's laboratory are. He spends most of his time down there, so much so that he moved a bed into the basement. The west wing is where my room is, my brother's well-preserved room, and my mother's quarters." Again, Blaine didn't elaborate.

"So are you taking me through the west wing, or..." Kurt was hoping that Blaine would take him through the empty wing, but if the house was symmetrical enough, the tour would help him anyway. Otherwise he probably wouldn't be able to get out... or in, for that matter. He would have to scout the outside of the house if he got a chance.

"Probably the east wing," Blaine said, and Kurt resisted the urge to do a little victory dance. "All the servants are in the west wing, and they'll report to my father if I have someone up there. Plus, bringing you to my room would be a little... inappropriate."

"What a gentleman," Kurt teased.

"Oh shut up." They had been talking in a ridiculously ostentatious foyer, but Blaine led Kurt up a set of stairs curling to the right, clearly leading to the east wing.

* * *

**Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 15:23:49  
**Blaine had taken Kurt all throughout the empty side of his house, making small talk as Kurt did his best to make a mental floor plan. Blaine even showed Kurt the stairway to the laboratory, pointing out all of his father's security measures (that he knew of), and he really was _way_ too trusting. The trick to getting into the basement was that the stairs actually descended two flights, there being no entrance on the first floor. Someone would have to climb up the side of the house to get into the basement. It was rather ingenious, and very helpful for Blaine to point this out to him.

Most of the empty rooms were clearly intended to be bedrooms, and most of them had four-poster beds in them that were covered in a thin layer of dust. Every single one of them was unique and beautiful, and Blaine revealed that the house was in fact symmetric, pointing out the room that mirrored his.

"The only other thing to see is the ballroom, but there are too many stuffy people in there for you to truly appreciate the room," Blaine teased, and Kurt had a feeling that his outfit was very much commentary on what he thought of these parties. He didn't seem to appreciate all of the high-class people that he was associated with through his father's wealth. "Wanna go down by the beach? It's a little cool, but it's nice and quiet."

"Sounds great," Kurt said. They had circled through the east wing and ended up back in the foyer.

Blaine took Kurt's hand again (he seemed to love doing that), and he led Kurt out through the wide, intimidating front doors. Since Blaine seemed to be doing his best to make Kurt's life easy, he led Kurt around the east side of the house, allowing Kurt to surreptitiously check out the siding and figure out exactly how he could get into the basement. By the time they had rounded the back of the house and the party was in view, Kurt was pretty sure he had a game plan for later. However, getting into the basement was of no use to him until Sue Sylvester abandoned socializing and headed down to talk to Dr. Anderson. Hopefully, that would be a little longer, or else he would have to make some hurried excuse as to why he had to decline Blaine's invitation and stick Blaine with Wes (who, he had learned a few days ago, would be important to the plan later. Somehow).

Kurt and Blaine stayed pretty far away from the party as Blaine led Kurt down to the water. A quick look at his mobile command center confirmed that Sue Sylvester was near the doors of the ballroom, apparently consulting with her hit man. "Careful," Blaine said softly, and Kurt released they were descending on a rocky path from the green area to the beach. Kurt followed, not wearing the appropriate footwear at all, but managing on the slippery rocks. "Sorry," Blaine said as they reached the beach and Kurt pretty much gave up on keeping his shoes in tact. Besides, they were technically the government's. "People don't come down here very often."

"Then why is there a blanket and food?" Kurt asked, eying the picnic supplies on the beach.

"Well..."

"Did you plan this?" Kurt was trying to sound accusatory, but he was too flattered.

"Yeah. I was just hoping we could get some time alone," Blaine said, and he was the cutest thing in the world. He really was. "Shall we sit?"

This was a bad idea. This was an absolutely horrible idea. "Absolutely," Kurt said, returning Blaine's tentative smile. A lake side (and he was forced to assume the water was some sort of lake) picnic was very romantic, and the perfect place for Dr. Anderson's son to spill secrets. At least, that's how he would sell this to the agency later if necessary.

"Kurt, I know you're not... that you clearly don't think of me like... don't think about me the way I think about you, but I _really_ like you, regardless of how weird you can be sometimes," Blaine said with a rather sincere smile that proved he was clearly trying to lighten the atmosphere, "and if there's any chance that you feel the same way-"

"Blaine, you don't understand," Kurt interrupted. Crap, this is _not_ where he was hoping the conversation would go. Blaine was being much more direct that he had planned on. "It's not that I don't like you, that I'm not... attracted to you, it's just-"

"Just what, Kurt?" Blaine asked, earnest and nervous and completely adorable. "I don't understand. If you think that it's too soon, that we don't know each other well enough, just... come out to dinner with me. We'll get to know each other."

"Blaine-" Blaine cut him off in what was simultaneously the best and worst way of all time, kissing him quiet. Kurt did his best not to melt into Blaine's embrace, but _God_, Blaine was a good kisser, and Kurt couldn't deny how much he liked his assignment. There was still a microphone on him, but he didn't even care. Blaine was cupping his face with his hands, kissing him softly, sweetly, not pushing to make the kiss deeper. Kurt could have kissed him forever... if it wasn't for the need to breathe.

Blaine broke away first, resting his forehead against Kurt's and staring deep into his eyes. "Kurt..."

Kurt's mobile command center beeped urgently. A quick look down (without moving his head) revealed that Sylvester and Goolsby were on the move. "I have to go," Kurt said suddenly, standing up and wishing that this had happened at a better moment. "I'm sorry, Blaine."

"Kurt, wait." He couldn't, but _oh_, how he wanted to. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have done that, it was too pushy, but I just-"

"Blaine, I have to go," Kurt said again, practically running up the rocky embankment towards the house. While Blaine was definitely important to him, finding out what was going on in Dr. Anderson's laboratory with Stheno was important to the country. "Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country," Kurt muttered to himself, a little bit bitterly, texting Wes as he walked across the lawn to find Blaine on the beach.

Hopefully Blaine could forgive him.

* * *

**A/N: It's been over a week since I was supposed to post this and I'm sorry. It wasn't that the chapter wasn't written, and it wasn't that I didn't have access to a computer. If I had posted on Saturday, July 13 (because I did forget about it on Friday, my birthday), I would have had to say something that at the time I didn't know how to articulate. I still don't. **

**The entire Glee world, not only the fans, but also the actors and producers and writers, suffered a terrible loss on that July 13, 2013. Cory Monteith was well-loved, and he will always be missed. My deepest condolences go out to Lea, to his castmates and coworkers, family and friends.**

**R.I.P Cory Monteith  
****1982-2013**


	6. The Mission

**Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 15:34:28  
**Kurt patted his pockets as he walked across the lawn, watching Wes out of the corner of his eye as he got Kurt's text and started towards the beach to check on Blaine. Kurt shook his head to himself. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that part of his assignment right now.

He tried to surreptitiously slide around the side of the house, hoping no one would be paying much attention to him, watching Sylvester and Goolsby move on his phone. There was no dot that identified Doctor Anderson, but Kurt was willing to bet he was with the Stheno executives, since they were moving through the house. Probably headed up the stairs.

He peeled off his tuxedo by the side of the house, hoping no one would notice it lying there. He didn't have time to discretely get back to his car without missing a portion of what he was willing to bet was going to be a very important meeting between Doctor Anderson and Stheno. The stealth suit he was wearing underneath was skin-tight and a little bit itchy, but he ignored it. He placed his earpiece in and clipped his mic on.

He knew the Spidy Gloves were essentially one-use (he would have to spray them with the can Doctor Morrison had given him to make them stick and un-sticky), so he would use the silly string ladder to climb the side of the house. He stuffed more of his gadgets (smoke detector and bombs, camera, Peeper, laser lipstick, and Disabler. He left behind his watch and sunglasses. He knew they were armed and a watch wasn't going to held him) in the belt around the waist of the stealth suit. It really was incredibly designed, a dull gray color that was made of virtually camera-proof material. Unfortunately, his head would still be visible. And that's why he had the Disabler. He had the silly string ladder can with him (he refused to add the 'z' at the end), and tested it out quickly against the grass, confident it would dissolve. Because Doctor Morrison was secretly a child, it was pink goop that sprayed out in an unstable looking pattern. Great.

Since he really had no choice, he stepped back and sprayed the ladder against the side of Blaine's house. It only looked a little more stable on the siding, and Kurt had to be very careful to get the top of the ladder near a window. It was incredibly hard to control above head height. Kurt lifted his finger off the spray nozzle, and the extra gooped down a little. He was just happy when he placed a hand against the sticky material and it stayed put. Hopefully, they had field-tested it enough that it was actually safe to climb.

Having no better option, Kurt placed his other hand higher up, and then stepped onto the ladder. Remarkably, it held, though he had figured out climbing it wasn't going to be easy. He had to move a hand together with its associated foot in order to get anywhere, and it was hard to detach himself from the ladder. Eventually, he reached the top of the ladder (which was definitely stronger than it looked), and his next task was the window. Blaine's house was state-of-the-art, but there wasn't much that could be done with windows. Kurt checked three times for a motion detector before slipping in his driver's license (thankfully, his wallet was in his belt) and unlocking the window with a satisfying click. He dropped the card back into his belt and climbed onto the window sill, balancing carefully as he tried to pull himself off the silly string ladder. The bottom was already dissolving, so he felt safe leaving it there.

Balanced on the ledge, he looked around the room for a camera to stick the Disabler to. It wasn't going to be an easy task without being detected. "_You there, Agent Hummel_?" Agent Lopez's voice came through his earpiece and almost scared him right off the window sill.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Kurt demanded in a whisper. He knew there was a camera around the next corner.

"_Not at the moment,_" Agent Lopez reassured him in a dry tone. "_You're almost out of range of your earpiece_," that definitely wasn't a bad thing, but Kurt had to wonder where the van was parked that they couldn't fix that, "_so I just wanted to remind you that the Smoke Detectors Doctor Morrison gave you will also help you figure out where the cameras are pointed_." Okay, so that was actually helpful. "_There's a camera in your microphone, so we'll be watching, even though we can't help you. Good luck, and remember to get samples_." Kurt took out the earpiece and stuffed it in his belt, since it was going to do him no further good.

"Awesome," he whispered to himself as he eased off the ledge and landed gently on the floor. He had suffered through enough training that his stealth-slipper-covered feet didn't make the slightest sound on the old wooden flooring.

Portions of the hallways in Blaine's house were divided by partitions, just foot-wide potions of walls that stuck out and made convenient corners to hide in. They also provided the perfect niche for security cameras, and as Kurt slid into one of those corners, he knew there was a security camera opposite him.

He didn't know exactly how to work the Smoke Detector Doctor Morrison had given him, and throwing it to the ground next to the barrier didn't work. Kicking it in frustration, however, did the trick, and with a beep, the sleek silver ball unfolded into perfect eighths, releasing eight streams of white gas into the air. Kurt held his arm over his nose and mouth until the smoke cleared for two reasons. The first: he didn't exactly trust the mad doctor who had given him the equipment. The second: it didn't exactly smell good.

When the white smoke cleared, a very visible band of green light was emitting from the security camera, spreading out as it lengthened to cover a significant area of the hallway. That, Kurt guessed, was as much as the camera could see. Thankfully, the camera's vision was hindered by the partition, and Kurt was able to sneak underneath the security camera without touching the green area just by staying close to the wall. He stuck the Disabler to the underside of the camera, and the device shuttered. The green area was still there, but Kurt was forced to assume that the camera was no longer submitting feed, even though it could still technically see that area. Still, clinging to the wall was the safest bet.

He only had to go down about one hundred feet of hallway until he found the entrance to the staircase. There wasn't _actually_ a dumbwaiter system, but there were plenty of doors throughout the East wing of the house that looked like dumbwaiters. In reality, they were small passages to hidden stairwells. Blaine should stop telling strangers such important details about his house.

Kurt stuck as close to the wall as possible as he approached the fake-dumbwaiter. When he had reached his destination, he took a quick glance at his mobile command center. Goolsby and Sylvester were still on the first floor, but there was a new dot accompanying them now. Doctor Anderson.

The spy realized he could almost hear their conversation downstairs, since they were obviously approaching the staircase upstairs (it sounded like Doctor Anderson was apologizing for the walk), and Kurt ducked quickly into the tiny passageway. He barely fit as a pretty lithe spy. There was no way Dustin Goolsby could fit through the tunnel he was in. There must be another way, but Blaine didn't know about it, and Kurt didn't want to take any chances.

Kurt crawled through the passageway, which was smooth metal and cold to the touch, but thankfully not smelly or damp. In too many movies, the little passageways leading to secret staircases were smelly and damp.

The passageway ended abruptly, Kurt pushing the slab of metal at the end up (glad it was on hinges) and emerging on a simple steel stairwell, spiraling tightly down into the basement of the Anderson mansion. There were handrails, but Kurt didn't want to leave any fingerprints, and the stairs felt so steep and so awkwardly spaced that Kurt almost felt like he was falling as he descended the two flights. His steps rang out faintly, but thankfully he could no longer hear voices. Maybe they had stopped to talk, or maybe there were two stairwells. The latter seemed much likely, considering what Blaine had told Kurt about the expansive measures of his father's quarters in the basement.

When Kurt reached the bottom landing of the stairs, he didn't stop to take a breather. There was a steel door in front of him, marked by the Eye of Horus and protected by a four-digit lock and what looked like a scanner of some sort. There was also another door, blank, which was probably the entrance from another stairwell... or an entrance to another branch of the basement network. Kurt wondered briefly how many floors there were below Blaine's house and whether or not it was stable.

Kurt's attention, however, was focused up. Blaine had mentioned the air duct system, and air ducts were always important in scientific laboratories. If the network didn't extend down into the basement... Kurt was going to get caught. The idea made his throat close up, but he couldn't turn back now.

The grate was small, finely divided, high up, and molded into the wall, but it was there, and with the laser and a little bit of know-how, Kurt popped it up, removing the bottom portion of the grate and its sides from the wall. He put the laser (which still looked ridiculous to him) back in his belt and took out the Spidy Gloves. He left the Spidy Feet tucked away for the moment.

This idea would require a lot of arm strength, which admittedly wasn't really his forte. But Kurt had to try. He put on and sprayed the Spidy Gloves, carefully dropping the spray back into his belt without getting stuck to it. He then stuck his hands to the wall, briefly clenching his fists and hoping this was possible without either losing the gloves or pulling his arms out of their sockets. Kurt slapped his hands as far above his head as they would go, and pulled up, trying not to grunt at the burn in his arms and shoulders. He couldn't afford to hang there for a minute as he got his breath back, so he pulled off one hand as soon as he had pulled himself level with his hands, and slapped it up again. Thankfully, that put him at the level to climb into the grate. With a heave, Kurt pulled himself up, swinging himself headfirst into the grate, almost popping his arms out in a brand new way. He had to get most of his torso into the grate before there was enough weight resting on the grate that he wouldn't fall back to earth as soon as he detached his hands. His shoulders would definitely hurt in the morning.

Nevertheless, he pulled his arms off the wall with some effort and wiggled ungracefully into the grate, glad that the agents couldn't see _exactly_ how the process had gone. There was probably a smarter way to do it, but his way worked. Kurt barely remembered to close the grate behind him, making it blend as best he could into the wall, before forging ahead in the tiny duct. Thankfully, there were slots that looked underneath him, and he could see a good portion of the laboratory.

Blaine hadn't been kidding. Most of the floor of the room he could see was covered in giant tanks of water, with seemingly nothing inside him. Kurt knew better; he knew that the tiny organisms in those tanks could change the future of communications if utilized. The question was what influence they would have, and that depended on the hands they ended up in.

Kurt would have to get a sample of them eventually, but first he should wait for Goolsby, Sylvester, and Dr. Anderson to get don to the basement. Hopefully, they would be saying something he wanted to hear, and the agency could record their conversation with his microphone. If that wasn't out of range. Dr. Anderson had probably protected his laboratory pretty well.

That reminded him. While he was waiting for the Stheno executives and the good doctor (Kurt was working hard not to think of him as Blaine's father), he could get in position. Kurt took off the Spidy Gloves (hoping that would be their last use) and started setting up the scope cam, another piece of equipment he wasn't entirely sure how to use. They looked like headphones, but that was probably the point. He could barely crouch in the air duct, but he maneuvered so that he was over one of the tanks of water and let one of the headphones slip through one of the slots, and it was the crackle of feedback that made him jump and slam his head against the inside of the duct that confirmed the little things were a microphone _and_ a camera. No need to worry about recording it his way. Kurt pulled it up a little and slid a finger through the slot on the other side, grabbing it and wrapping it. Motion detectors weren't his only problem; human eyes caught movement themselves, and if he got caught because of one of the stupid gadgets he was going to kill Dr. Morrison.

Once the headph-scope cam was wrapped and steady, Kurt couldn't do anything but wait, checking his mobile command center to see how long he would be crouched there. Thankfully, they seemed to be headed down into the basement. Not too long then.

* * *

**Laboratory under the Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 16:20:35  
**"Why aren't they useful now, you sniveling imbecile?" Sue Sylvester's rough voice hissed out as the door Kurt had seen from the outside marked with the Eye of Horus opened.

"It's an incredibly delicate procedure," a deep voice was saying from behind Sue Sylvester, and Doctor Anderson closed the door behind them. Goolsby wasn't in the laboratory, probably guarding outside, so it was just SYlvester and Dr. Anderson. "They have to be streamlined in certain wave patterns and kept away from all other substances, including the nitrogen, argon, carbon dioxide, and other gases found in the Earth's atmosphere."

"I was promised progress by today, and yet all I see are empty tanks."

"Surely you are educated enough to know that these tanks are not empty!" Dr. Anderson objected with a little bit of scientific pride. "They are full of millions of antineutrinos, any ten of which could give us the power to read all of China's communications."

"Which doesn't explain why I can't use them." Sylvester seemed very to-the-point. Under any other circumstances, Kurt would have liked her. As it was, he had a begrudging respect for her.

"Turning the power of the antineutrinos into a controllable force that will penetrate power lines and read electronic signals is simply trial and error. I cannot guarantee you a date when they will be usable for your companies project. I could have a breakthrough tomorrow or never in my lifetime."

"I am not paying for these tanks to outlive you, though a fruit fly will outlive you if you don't give me something I can use soon," Sylvester said coldly.

"Perhaps a small demonstration of the powers I _have_ harnessed in the first few months with these incredible particles will ease your mind," Dr. Anderson attempted to appease her, walking over to one of the tanks just out of Kurt's sight. There was a hissing sound, and Dr. Anderson returned to Kurt's line of sight with a closed beaker of water. How he had transferred the antineutrinos without exposing them to air, Kurt had no idea, but he would hopefully do the same thing shortly. "Do you have a cell phone?"

"Are you going to destroy it?"

"No." Sylvester handed over an iPhone, and Dr. Anderson placed it with the beaker in a comically oversized, horizontal test tube. "Removing the air," he said, turning a dial, and there was a vacuum sound. Within seconds, the beaker shattered, and the water rushed around the phone. "A visual display," he offered, pointing up towards the wall. On a large monitor, there was the corner of Sylvester's phone, and the picture zoomed in further to reveal globs of oddly gray matter slipping into the phone.

"The fact that they can penetrate my phone does not make them impressive," Sylvester said flatly, but Dr. Anderson just smiled a little dreamily.

"Wait," he replied. After about two minutes of antineutrinos slipping into the phone, Dr. Anderson hit a button, and a drain washed the water and its contents away. Kurt had no idea what actually happened when antineutrinos were introduced to air, but it couldn't be too bad, as the water drained into an open cup on the floor. "Now, call your phone."

Sylvester looked at him like he was stupid. Kurt couldn't blame her.

"Perhaps I should," Dr. Anderson said after a moment, and did so with his own cell phone. As soon as it started ringing, the monitor started ringing as well, oddly enough. "Answer," he said to his phone, and the phone picked up. "Hello, I'm Doctor Anderson, and I would like to specify what the power of the antineutrinos have just done."

"I get it, Frankenstein," Sylvester said. "You bugged my phone. I can do that with a chip."

"Yes, but the antineutrinos are undetectable, are never out of range, and can also control the phone. With the antineutrinos within the iPhone, I can send texts and emails remotely."

"Impressive," Sylvester began, and Dr. Anderson looked relieved, "but very rarely is a phone I'm trying to bug in an airless environment."

"I think I have the solution to that, but it will require a little more R&D."

"I'm done with R, and D has been underway for months. I want S."

"Success?" Dr. Anderson asked.

"_Sylvester_. As in the name on every front page of every newspaper in the world once you finish this project. Have it done in two weeks."

"B-but that's impossible!" Dr. Anderson argued as Sylvester went to leave. "It's taken me months to bug a phone in an airless environment. To not only create a modified antineutrino that would survive in air, but also harness its power to read and modify remote electronic signals will take _years_."

"You have two weeks, Dr. Anderson. I don't want to say that, or visit you, again. Come." Sylvester stalked out of the laboratory, and Dr. Anderson, at a loss, followed her.

* * *

**Laboratory under the Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 16:37:45  
**Kurt pulled up the scope cam now that the entrepreneur and doctor were gone. He wasn't sure how helpful the conversation he had overheard would be to the CIA's overall plan of stopping the attempt (it looked like it was stopping itself), but he knew Dr. Anderson was in big trouble if he hadn't done several decades worth of research in the next two weeks.

Kurt's next task was a sample of the antineutrinos, which would be easy now that Dr. Anderson and Sue Sylvester were gone. He used the laser lipstick to open the grates, carving the last part with the laser in his mouth as he stuck his fingers through the grate. It was the only way he could think to avoid the grate falling to the floor with a loud crash, and he didn't lose any fingers in the process.

He was almost directly above a water tank, but he wasn't close enough to use the Water Peeper accurately from his perch. Instead, he pulled the Spidy Feet from his belt and attached them, lowering himself from the hole the grate had made and swinging his feet up high enough with the help of cheerleading abs to get his feet firmly stuck to the ceiling. Letting go was possibly the hardest thing he had to do, but he did so, and he didn't immediately fall from the ceiling. Instead, he swung there gently, aware he had little time before lightheadedness overtook him. He walked over to the water tank with care, having to pull his feet away from the ceiling hard to move and still afraid of falling. When he reached the nearest water tank, he placed the Water Peeper on its side, and there was a faint whirring sound as the tiny machine started to work.

Success.

"Hello, my little friend."

It was purely instinctual, the reflex to reach into his belt, grab one of the smoke bombs, and throw it down. Kurt curled up towards the ceiling as the black smoke exploded from his gadget and made it impossible to see inches in front of his own face, so he began trying to walk away, ignoring the burning in his abs from holding himself close to the ceiling with little help from his Spidy-Glove-less hands, but he couldn't escape fast enough. A hand fisted itself in the cloth covering his back, tearing the fabric slightly, and he was jerked down. His Spidy Feet were unhinged from the ceiling with a pop.

"Now, now. We can't have you getting feisty." Those were the last words Kurt heard before pain exploded in the side of his head and everything went black.

* * *

**Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 19:00:12  
**The right side of Kurt's head was throbbing as he woke up, he was tied to a chair around his neck, his hands and arms, his waist, and his calves and feet, and he was gagged with something not particularly appealing to have in one's mouth. He was also being shaken gently. "Kurt?" Blaine. Oh fuck.

"I'm okay," he tried to say through the gag, but it came out as muffled mumbling.

"You know, if you think this is sexy, it really isn't all that..." Kurt glared at his friend, and Blaine trailed off, deciding that it was better for his self-preservation not to finish that sentence, even though Kurt was bound and gagged. "Of course, you couldn't have actually managed this by yourself, so..."

Blaine trailed off, again, but KUrt was laughing this time. He was sweet, and goofy, and a little bit naive, and Kurt couldn't help but enjoy his sense of humor. "Don't laugh!" Blaine suddenly objected. "You'll suffocate!"

"I'm fine," Kurt tried to say again through the gag, opening his mouth wider to try to annunciate and decidedly not thinking about what he might be gagged with. Blaine want around his back and untied the gag. "Ow," Kurt said, stretching out his jaw. "Thanks."

"No problem," Blaine said, his voice almost trance-like.

"Where are we?" Kurt asked, because they were in a nondescript, empty room, coated in a thin layer of dust. He had no idea how Blaine had found him.

"This is the East wing equivalent of the library," Blaine said very calmly as he untied the rope around Kurt's neck.

"How did you find me?"

"I saw a strange man in dark clothes leaving this side of the house through the back door. I decided to check on everything, even though there's really nothing in this wing to steal, and imagine my surprise..." Blaine trailed off again. He still seemed unnaturally calm.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked as the tenor went to work on the knots on his biceps. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Blaine said, still completely serene. "I find boys I like gagged and bound in abandoned wings of my house every day."

"Blaine-"

"What is going _on_ here, Kurt?" Blaine demanded. "You flit into my life, don't tell me anything about yourself, seem socially inept, yet you know everything about me, you're friends with Wes even though he appears to hate you, and now I find you like this? What the _hell_ is going on?" Blaine had a right to ask all of these questions, but Kurt didn't have any answers for him.

"What do you want me to say, Blaine?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Blaine demanded. "The whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Understand me?"

"_You might as well_," came Santana's voice through that damn earpiece, and then Kurt really started taking stock (something a good, experienced agent would have done first thing, instead of being distracted by a boy). His stealth suit was gone, replaced by his tuxedo slacks and white shirt. Obviously Goolsby had found his tuxedo, gone to investigate in the lab, and found him being the least subtle agent in the world. Hopefully Goolsby thought he was still FBI. Still, that meant someone had taken the time to change him. What time was it? All of his gadgets were gone, except for his mobile command... screw it, it's a cell phone, still covered by the Bouncer, the scope cam (which they had hopefully really thought was headphones), and the damn earpiece. "_You've already blown your cover wide open, you can tell him everything_." Great. Kind of.

"What time is it?" Kurt asked before he could forget.

Blaine frowned, but answered. "Right after seven." He had been unconscious for over two hours.

"My name really is Kurt Hummel," Kurt started, "but it has a new prefix. Agent Kurt Hummel, Central Intelligence Agency."

"I thought the Central Intelligence Agency couldn't intervene in domestic matters," Blaine said, returning to his calm state as he undid the knots around Kurt's waist. Kurt flexed and twisted his wrists, trying to get feeling back into his hands.

"There are exceptions when it's a matter of international policy," Kurt replied.

"So, you're a spy, who came to Dalton to what? Watch me?"

"_I don't think you can tell him that_."

"Shut up," Kurt hissed to Agent Lopez.

"What?" Blaine demanded.

"Not you," Kurt corrected him. "I have another agent in my ear," he said, pointing. Blaine didn't even chuckle. "You're mad at me."

"Why are you here, Kurt? Why me?"

"It has to do with your father," Kurt admitted. "I can't tell you the exact specifications as a matter of international security, but your father is inadvertently doing dangerous things for dangerous people, and I'm doing reconnaissance."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Your father is very secluded. The easiest way to gain access to him and his lab is through you."

"So, you were supposed to cozy up to me, get invited to this party, and spy on my father?"

"Essentially."

"And that's why you're in all my classes?"

"Yes."

"Why you?" Of course, Blaine would be smart enough to ask that question. He couldn't make it easy.

"Because the agency knows that you're gay, and they figured you would be more willing to connect to someone who shares that bonding trait."

"So, what? The government can just come in and set me up with the perfect person, and then rip you out from under me in the name of protecting international security?"

"Um... yes," Kurt answered, because saying, 'duh,' wouldn't be a good idea. Blaine was angry enough.

"The government are dicks," Blaine muttered under his breath as he finished the last knots on Kurt's ankles and stood up. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

"I didn't have a choice," Kurt said, and he could see in Blaine's eyes how heartbroken he was. "I'm an agent, and you were my assignment."

"I can't believe it was all fake," Blaine said as he turned around and walked away.

"No, Blaine," Kurt tried to object, tried to get up and follow him. However, he had been bound for two hours, and his legs gave out from under him. He crashed to the floor, disturbing years of dust bunnies, and he could hear Blaine's footsteps as the tenor walked away.

* * *

**A/N: I am sorry about the incredibly long wait in a story that was supposed to be weekly, but I thought I would write as I posted, and I didn't, which meant that chapter 5 was the last chapter I had written out fully. Writing this chapter was difficult because I'm not actually an action writer (this was a prompt fic), but I've planned out the rest and it should go smoothly. Again, I apologize.**

**Reviews are Love.**


	7. The Disbandment

**CIA Headquarters, Downtown Columbus, Columbus, OH 14:35:40  
**Being marched down the stairs, still-sore arms held by two other agents and followed by a dejected team of Agents Lopez, Puckerman, and Evans, was kind of like being lead to the noose. Kurt knew what was about to happen, but the reality of it would still be brutal when he arrived at his unchosen destination.

The director was standing at the table where Kurt had received his very first, and probably last, assignment, his hands wrung together and his face looking rather unimpressed. "Agents Hummel, Lopez, Puckerman, and Evans, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Sir, it was our fault," Sam said almost immediately, and if Santana hadn't been throwing him the death glare to kill all death glares, Kurt would have corrected him. "We should have re-strategized immediately when we realized that Agent Hummel was out of range in the house. He was our charge, and we placed too much responsibility on the shoulders of a green agent."

"That is correct," the director said coldly. "However, we have spent millions of government dollars to train _children_ like Agent Hummel, and he made a mistake an idiot off the street would have made."

"Director Schuester, the kid was doing fine," Puck objected. "If we had given him a Super Space Bag or some other way to dispose of his tuxedo, Goolsby never would have found it and Kurt would have gotten easily in and out of the mission."

"Regardless of the small errors made by other members of the team, the real error here was made by the agency: placing a green agent on Operation Atlas Shrugged, international security at stake. Do you understand what you have done here, Agent Hummel? With that technology, Sylvester can fire nuclear missiles at will, turning entire countries and continents against each other before lunch. World War III will begin, and any part of the world she holds a grudge against will be flattened. I'm positive that includes this great nation."

"Sir," Agent Lopez said hesitantly, "the tapes Agent Hummel recovered are untampered with, and they clearly showed that this technology is not in usable shape, and will not be any time soon. Yes, Agent Hummel's cover is blown and Stheno knows we're still keeping an eye on them, but they think we're the FBI, and we still have time to reset the trap with a more experienced agent."

"Except the opportunity for our trap became deeply entrenched in this issue, and is now aware that the Central Intelligence Agency is trying to use him to get to his father. He was told the whole situation, a mistake that rests entirely on Agent Hummel's shoulders."

"I gave him permission, sir," Agent Lopez corrected him, and Director Schuester sighed.

"Sir, with all due respect, now that Blaine knows the trouble his father is in, maybe he would be more willing to cooperate with the-"

"We _never_," Director Schuester interrupted Kurt quickly, "involve civilians in matters of international security. That is the second rule, the first being not to blow your cover."

"Sir-" Kurt tried to object, but Director Schuester interrupted him again.

"The third is not to get too close to an assignment. Agents Lopez, Evans, and Puckerman, I would like to speak to Agent Hummel alone." Puck clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by, out of the room through one of the slightly elevated exits on the wall opposite the stairs. Sam patted his back, and Agent Lopez didn't acknowledge his existence.

"Sir-"

"Not a word," Director Schuester cut him off, and Kurt fell silent. The director was obviously not in the mood to be argued with. Director Schuester waited in icy silence until all three of his fellow agents had cleared out of the room before beginning to chew him out. "Not only did you disobey a direct order regarding Doctor Anderson's son, but you did so under surveillance and fully aware of how it jeopardized the mission. Junior Snitch Montgomery's behavior I can overlook, partially because you and I are the only people aware of it, but also partially because having a relationship in a Snitch role doesn't jeopardize international security. Junior Snitch will probably be Wes Montgomery for the rest of his life, and if his partner takes an oath after marriage, he may tell his partner of his real identity and any other classified details that are unimportant to active missions. But your transgression... I cannot overlook. I know you're a teenager and this may be unfair, but you're off the mission."

"Sir, the Anderson's are still-"

"The Anderson's are none of your concern," Director Schuester said sharply. "Including Blaine. Your mobile command center was confiscated when you arrived, and you may have it back in place of a cell phone, with the case you installed and everything, but all memory of Blaine has been stripped from it. You no longer have his contact information, or any of the notes we gave you about him. Try to forget, it makes this easier." What case did he install?

"I can't just-"

"You will do as I say, because you don't truly have a choice. You can no longer operate in this case because your cover is blown, and you're far too close to your target." Kurt wanted to object that Blaine wasn't his target, but it was no use. "You will be returned to McKinley with a sanctioned excuse, you will never contact Blaine again, and you will live a normal life until you are once again called on in the name of protecting your country." Director Schuester turned around to leave, but Kurt was in shock.

"What was that last one?"

"I'm not kicking you out of the agency, Agent Hummel," the director said without turning back to look at him. "It is true you made a rookie mistake, but you were also misguided by your team and placed over your head. Operation Atlas Shrugged is no longer yours to control, but you will be called on again in time." With that, the director walked up the stairs.

"Whew! Dodged a bullet!" Puck announced as he turned the corner.

"How long have you been hiding there?" Kurt asked in surprise.

"Long enough to know we'll probably be seeing your butt again," Sam said, popping out from his hiding space.

"I suppose Agent Lopez is hiding around here somewhere too?" Kurt asked, scanning the room.

"Nah, she's still pretty peeved at you for ruining her shot at getting back in the action, but she'll be all right. She said she'll call you later."

"That has to be the scariest thing I've heard all day," Kurt muttered, making the other two agents laugh.

"Yeah, she's in a mood, but don't worry about it too much," Sam said.

"She's not as scary as she thinks she is," Puck added.

"What's going to happen to you guys?" Kurt asked. He wasn't entirely sure he was still supposed to be in the headquarters as an inactive agent, but neither of the guys who had walked him in were attempting to walk him out, so he figured it was fine.

"I'm still on Atlas Shrugged," Sam answered. "Since you're still part of the agency, I can tell you that they have no idea what to do and are pretty much waiting to see what happens."

"But what will happen to Blaine and his brother and father?" Kurt asked.

"His brother just got a security upgrade," Puck replied. "That's where they're putting me. I'm being shipped out to Los Angeles to watch over Cooper Anderson. According to the agents already there, that's a pretty terrible punishment assignment, since the kid's got such a big head they're surprised it hasn't burst yet."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," Sam cut him off. "If Puck's on security detail, that means he's back on the field, instead of being in a van. In a weird way, the punishment is an upgrade for him. Feel bad for Santana, she's being shipped off to a baby assignment."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there are several sections of the federal sector of law enforcement. Since the CIA is so annoyed with her, she's being shipped off to the Attorney General Investigative Team for a few months. It's just a little bit more glamorous than being a police officer in D.C."

"She's losing her job?" Kurt asked, but they both shrugged.

"Kind of," Puck said.

"She'll be back on the CIA once Director Schuester has calmed down, or she'll be reassigned to a new branch. She doesn't have any family in Ohio anyway, maybe she'll be shipped off to a more glamorous branch. In a way, this is her upgrade too."

"Okay," Kurt said, realizing that his friends, even though he had messed up their lives and careers, would be okay. "I should go home. I guess I have school in the morning." Back at McKinley. Awesome. How was he going to explain that to his parents? Would the agency tell them that he had gotten kicked out of Dalton, or something else entirely?

"Good luck, dude," Sam said, giving Kurt a hug.

"I would rather be under the thumb of the Attorney General forever than be in high school," Puck said as he offered Kurt a fist bump, obviously not the hugging type.

"Hey, Sam?" Kurt asked as the two agents were leaving. Puck continued leaving, obviously thinking about something else, but Sam stopped. "Will you look after Blaine for me?"

"Sure thing, dude," Sam said with a little smile that definitely had some meaning to it, but Kurt didn't know what he was thinking.

* * *

**Hudson-Hummel Residence, 415 Whitman Avenue, Lima, OH 22:29:36  
**Kurt drove himself home in his Navigator, which they had left all tricked out with gadgets. Apparently, Director Schuester was very serious about calling on him for another operation, because he still had CIA reports on his dashboard, and a few of them were titled Operation Atlas Shrugged, but he didn't dare look at them. He trusted Sam to make sure that Blaine was okay.

He was absolutely dreading walking into the house for a number of reasons: his dad had actually seemed pretty excited about getting him out of McKinley once he had warmed up to the idea of Dalton thanks to Agent Lopez, plus, inside that house, he had to deal with Finn, and Finn, for all he loved his step-brother, could be a complete and total ass. He kind of wished the director had told him what lie they were telling his parents so that he could prepare for what was to come, but since he wasn't exactly on the CIA's list of favorites at the moment, he would take what he could get, which, at this point, was just still being employed.

"Oh, _honey_," Carole said as soon as he walked in the door, enveloping him in a hug. "We are _so_ sorry." Kurt wanted to ask 'for what,' but he knew there was no subtle way to not be upset about whatever Carole was upset about on his behalf.

"I'm fine," Kurt replied, tall enough that his voice wasn't muffled by her shoulder any more. That was his personality, after all, as much as he would deny it when he was in a bad place.

"I'm so sorry you had to deal with that."

"We're all sorry," Finn said loudly from the couch. "She's been talking about it for days."

"Apparently you haven't been giving her enough to talk about," Kurt said, hoping to avoid the topic entirely because Finn was being a jackass. In his own, unintentional way, Finn was actually helping. He would probably keep it up as long as Kurt didn't tell him that.

"Well, we all know you're the one who needs the support system." Considering how many rough patches Finn had been through in the last few years Kurt had known him, that statement was entirely invalid, but KUrt didn't really care. What he _did_ care about was that Finn was no longer helping him.

"Carole, I'm fine," he said a little more sincerely, and his good acting was rewarded by Carole finally releasing him. "I'm just going to go up to my room." He heaved a hefty, very fake sigh. "I can't believe I have to go back to McKinley tomorrow."

"Sweetie, if you want to take a couple of days off..." Carole's concerned voice followed him up the stairs.

"That would be appreciated," he called back down before collapsing on his bed. The agency was steamed at him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't get another project soon. Besides the little tuxedo incident, he had been doing well on the case, right?

He couldn't get Blaine out of his head, and it was killing him. The look on Blaine's face as his assignment... but he couldn't call Blaien that anymore, not even in his head. He didn't have _anything_ to call Blaine in his head, because he was nothing to Blaine. That's what the look in the tenor's eyes had really meant. Kurt was dead to him. Blaine thought everything was fake, even though it very much wasn't. At least, it had been real for him, and that kiss Blaine gave him made it seem like things were very real for Blaine too. Blaine had _liked_ him, the first boy who had ever showed actual interest, and he had killed that.

Just his luck.

Before Kurt could get too deep in his hole of self-pity, his phone started buzzing. The name flashing across the screen was Agent Lopez, and even the formal agent headshot of her that had been placed on his phone because it was his mobile command center looked angry.

Even though he knew it would probably make Agent Lopez more likely to kill him, Kurt didn't answer at first. Looking at his phone had made him think of the director's weird comment about a new case, and his phone felt... different. There was a different texture to the screen, and when Kurt scratched at it, he couldn't find an edge at all. It was like someone had plastic-wrapped his phone. But why?

Kurt was one hundred percent certain that if he waited another second, the call would go to voicemail and Agent Lopez really would come to his house and kill him, so he picked up the phone. "Hello."

"_So, you win the fuck-up award of the agency. You're worse than me, and I fucked a member of the agency on a case_."

"You're always so soothing and comforting, you know that?"

"_I miss the days when you were afraid of me_."

"You can thank Evans and Puckerman for that. The only thing I'm afraid of now are those claws you call fingernails, and they're out of reach."

"_And how would you know that? I could be aiming a sniper through your window right now_."

"That would still be out of reach of your fingernails."

"_Point taken. How angry are you at yourself_?"

"How angry are you at me?"

"_So angry I want to shred your testicles and feed them to my cat while they're attached to you_."

"Your poor cat."

"_She likes raw meat... just like me_."

"Before this conversation gets extremely disturbing, did you have something you wanted to say to me."

"_You didn't do anything wrong, you know. Any agent would have done what you did without another option. It was just crappy luck that you got caught, and even worse that Blaine found you before we could get agents in there to get you out_."

"You were sending agents in after me even though I was compromised."

"_Kurt, did you ever consider the fact that while in the window of the house earlier, you were loosing signal, yet deep in the house when you were tired up you were within signal. That's because I was in the damn window. You were part of my team._"

"Aw, you actually have a soft side," Kurt crooned, and then corrected himself before he could get bitched out. "I mean, your gooey center is probably caramel mixed with arsenic, but at least you have one."

"_And don't you worry too much about any of us-"_

"Sam and Puck explained your punishments." Agent Lopez, oddly, started laughing.

"_They explained their punishments as they know them. I'm not headed off to D.C. and the Attorney General Investigative Team, that's just what they've been told. I'm going undercover, big._"

"You're not..."

"_God, no. Being a teenager was horrible enough the first time, there's no way I'm taking your place. Besides, I couldn't pull it off if I wanted to._"

"Just wear the same thing you wore when you picked me up from McKinley. THe only guy in that school that's going to be making eye contact is Blaine."

"_Yeah, but now he's suspicious. They're keeping a security detail on him, but no one's going back in. They're hoping that since they have a model of the house and enough information about it to get people in there, they don't really need to do the whole undercover thing. It's much safer for everyone that way. Plus, we're collaborating with the FBI so that we can keep the whole 'Stheno thinks we're the FBI' thing going. We're going to let them be the decoys for the company, the ones doing the obvious tactical maneuvers to get into the company headquarters themselves, while we're still going to focus on the good doctor. We talked to Blaine-_"

"I thought Director Schuester said-"

"Never_ interrupt me,_" Agent Lopez threatened. "_Director Schuester only said we don't want to get him involved, and we're not. We just asked him to stay at Dalton for a while so he's out of the line of fire._"

"Oh... good."

"_I knew you were worried about him, Hummel, since he's probably your first little gaymance. Too bad if you even _tried_ to go after him, the agency would fire you._"

"I'm aware."

"_Just making sure. Anyway, you did fine, and they'll probably..._" Santana's voice was getting farther and farther away, and Kurt looked down to make sure they were still connected when her voice faded out and a light buzz replaced his conversation, with some strange sci-fi movie interference in the background.

"Santana? Are you still there?" He still had five bars, and they were still connected. "What the _what_?"

"**Hello, tiny FBI nimrod.**" Kurt's blood froze in his veins at the voice. Sue Sylvester. "**I'm guessing you know who I am, and if you don't, my face will soon be on every newscast in the world. I'm sure you've realized by now why I had Goolsby shrink-wrap your phone so thoroughly it's practically... I would go so far to say airtight. Since you were the little ferret-faced spy that Goolsby knocked out, you surely know what that means for you.**" Had Sylvester been spying on his confidential conversation with Santana? But she had still called him FBI, so she obviously hadn't heard enough of the strategy. The bug took long enough to set up that she had probably cancelled out of the conversation too early. Thank anything above. "**So, here's how this will go. You will leave me alone, I've already claimed my tools, and then I'll claim my prize... the world.**"

Kurt realized his hands were practically shaking with rage as he hung up, even though he knew he was also hanging up on Santana, who probably couldn't hear the interruption and was wondering where Kurt had went. He checked his phone, but it just showed a short conversation with Santana, even with the CIA breakdown, which included the GPS of the phone it's connected to and all project nearby. Santana was in D.C., so Kurt would have to take her word for it that she wasn't part of the Attorney General's Investigative Team... but there was no sign of the signal changing or the GPS moving. Not that he had expected one.

He stood up, glancing down at his clothes in disgust. They were the same ones he had worn earlier in the day of the operation, and they weren't exactly the most fragrant of things. He hadn't worried about it until now, but he had things to do. Mostly figure out what the hell Sylvester meant by 'claiming her tools,' but also informing the agency that Sylvester had found an easy way to make the antineutrinos work. Shrink-wrap. It was so simple, it never would have occurred to Kurt.

Kurt quickly donned the closest thing he had to a secret agent outfit on hand: black skinnies, a white t-shirt, and the leather jacket Mercedes had bought him as a joke. Admittedly, he looked a little more like a bad biker, but there was no way he was going to try secret-agenting in a suit or tuxedo again. It was _not_ practical.

He stuck a camera and flashlight into the utility belt he still had from the time he had helped his father rebuild an old muscle car in the garage. It was a little grimy, but it was black, and it complimented the outfit well. If only he'd had a black trench coat, but he didn't have time for a shopping trip. He also donned gloves (from one of the Lady GaGa outfits he had created for GaGa week before he decided on the Alexander McQueen inspired one).

Kurt finally switched out the white t-shirt and leather jacket for a black t-shirt, feeling like a complete idiot mixing a leather jacket with a utility belt. The downstairs was quiet, and it was only then that Kurt realized how late it was, and how long it had taken him to get everything sorted out at the agency. He'd had to return all of his gadgets and do paperwork and everyone kept looking at him with such pity he felt more like the agents out of "Get Smart," but now wasn't the moment for self-pity. All he had to do was get downstairs.

"What are you doing?" Finn asked, coming out of his room at possibly the worst moment of all time. "Why the hell are you dressed like that? It's after eleven and Burt and Mom are asleep, there's no way they're going to let you go out now, especially after what happened at Dalton." What the hell did Director Schuester tell them?

"Finn-"

"You're sneaking out," Finn said slowly, it just clicking why someone would walk out of the house in the dead of night, dressed in all black. Thankfully, he didn't ask about the tool belt. "Why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." It wasn't a personal attack, most people wouldn't believe that their younger step-brother was a junior agent for the Central Intelligence Agency, but judging by Finn's glare, he seemed to take it as one.

"Try me."

"I'm a Junior Agent for the Central Intelligence Agency, which is why I was at Dalton, but I got thrown off the case, which is why they told you whatever they told you, and I still don't know what that is, but I've now just discovered that the bad guys on the case I got thrown off of because I blew my cover know a lot more and are _capable_ of a lot more than we knew they were, and thus I have to go to headquarters and try to convince Director Schuester to take immediate action for the sake of international security," Kurt spit out quickly, scanning the hallway as he talked to determine if he could get out of the house before Finn had a chance to alert their parents. He was out of luck on that.

"_Okay_," Finn said slowly. "Maybe you got hit in the head harder than we all thought." Kurt probably had a black eye. That would explain why Carole was treating him like he was glass.

"That's from a goon. I don't have _time_ for this, Finn."

KUrt wasn't sure what it was. Maybe Finn was just tired. Maybe he didn't feel like fighting anymore, and this was his olive branch. Or maybe the desperation in Kurt's voice actually made Finn believe him, but either way he didn't call out to their parents. "Can I do anything to help?"

"Cover for me?" Kurt asked. "I don't know how long I'll be gone. It could be _days_. Just... keep them out of my room, and if I'm not home for a while... just, cover for me, okay."

"You might die, right?" Oh no. Now was _not_ the time for Finn to decide that he should be Kurt's brotherly protector.

"I might, but I also might get hit by a bus at McKinley, or someone could cut my brakes because I'm gay. I _have_ to do this, FInn, this is way bigger than me."

"There's a boy, isn't there?" Finn asked, but he stepped aside.

"Not the point," Kurt insisted as he walked past Finn and crept down the stairs, glad he had Converse and the CIA had trained him in stealth.

* * *

**Corner of Richie Avenue and Woodward Avenue, Lima, OH, 23:14:42  
**Kurt couldn't take the Navigator, as tricked out as it was, because the moment the engine started, Burt would be out of bed with a shotgun, and he was too young to rent a car, so he would have to risk getting a taxi close to the CIA Headquarters and getting out of a taxi with valuables in Columbus in the early hours of the morning. Great. Plus, he would have to fork over quite a bit of cash for a ride to Columbus, and the cabbie would probably want some for having to drive back, though not quite the usual fare.

Even though it was almost midnight, it was easy to pick up a taxi in his suburban, safe neighborhood, and when he called the taxi service, there was one in front of him within five minutes. It probably would have taken longer if he had needed an ambulance. "Stockbridge Park, Columbus." That would be close enough.

"Are you kidding me, kid? It's midnight, I'm not driving to fucking Columbus. I won't be home till four AM."

"Even for two thousand dollars?" Kurt asked, waving the money high enough that the cabbie could see it in the rearview mirror. The cab peeled off the curb and drove faster than was even close to legal eastward and out of Lima.

Kurt considered grabbing a nap for the ride, but he didn't trust the cabbie to wake him up at the stop, instead running the meter until Kurt woke up, and he also didn't trust the driver with his money, as paranoid as that sounded. About half an hour out in Wayneshead, Kurt was extremely glad he was conscious.

His phone started ringing. It was an unknown number, but the digits tickled the back of his brain. A number he had once known by heart, one that he had looked at for a long time. The moment after it hit Kurt, he hit Accept. "Blaine," he breathed.

"_Don't think I'm not mad at you, but I don't know what's going on, and I'm worried and scared and I could really use your slash the CIA's help at the moment_," Blaine was whispering, but he sounded scared out of his mind.

"Blaine, what's going on?" he asked immediately, ignoring the irate look from the taxi driver who had probably hoped he was dozing off... which he had been.

"_I... I was supposed to return to Dalton today, escorted by a lovely team of your colleagues, but I always go downstairs to say goodbye to Dad, so I did. The lab was empty, water tanks were smashed, the floor was soaking wet, and I looked all over, but Dad wasn't there._" Blaine was breathing so heavily Kurt was afraid he was going to pass out, and he was talking a mile a minute. "_The only life forms in there were a couple of very dead and half-eaten rats... and two agents, bound and gagged like you were. I didn't have the time to save them, but I sent an SOS to the lady that called me, Agent Perez," _Kurt didn't bother to correct him, "_so hopefully they're okay. The guys that were outside, who clearly weren't CIA, took me into a limo, and I'm at Dalton now, but they're watching me, so I don't have much time. I need _help_, Kurt, please_."

"Blaine, I'll be there as soon as I can. Just stay calm and try to act like everything's normal. You can do this." Kurt hung up before answered and whacked the back of the cabbie's seat. "Dalton Academy, please, and step on it. The price just went up." And so did the stakes.

* * *

**A/N: Whoo. It's been a while, but I finally got back into the swing of writing this, and I've already written the next chapter, so I'll post it next... it's 11:49 on Friday, so I'm going to call it Saturday. Hope you guys are liking, because the action just heated up.**


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